


return the love you took from me

by teal_always



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Soulmates, Uncle Gilbert Blythe, anne doesnt stay at GG au, modern au soulmate au anne doesnt stay at GG au, no real diss against lit majors seeing as i was one, uncle gilbert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23900251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teal_always/pseuds/teal_always
Summary: Forced out of her last foster home after they find her caregivers unsuitable, Anne meets Gilbert, also pulled from his family since a single father was not a proper caregiver for an orphan. Stuck in a home full of children with nowhere else to go, Anne and Gilbert face the tough realities of having no control over their lives, and the repercussions such instabilities can have on their futures and that of their Soulmates'.
Relationships: Diana Barry & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Sebastian "Bash" Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 86
Kudos: 246





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know what this plague has done to my brain but this story just poured out of it in three days. Anyway: stay home, enjoy fluff/angst.
> 
> Story title from “Somebody’s Crying” by Chris Isaak.
> 
> (Feel free to rec any other fics where Anne doesn’t get to go to/stay at GG.  
> Shoutout as always to everyone writing such nice comments on all my fics, especially the_lazy_ eye who pretty much guessed the emotional “moral” of this story.)

“Is there a problem up here?”

The group of girls in front of Gilbert varied, one can’t have hit puberty yet but others were closer to his age, but that didn’t seem to prevent them from ganging together against their obvious target.

At his arrival, however, the apparent leader simply sneered and tossed a book over her shoulder, loose pages fluttering around the dingy attic they were in. The group made their way out, filing past Gilbert to go make mayhem elsewhere, he guessed. The only one left was a skinny girl with bright hair that was now on the ground, trying to collect the pieces of the haphazardly thrown book.

“Any more dragons that need slaying?” Gilbert asked, but the flat look he received in response just made him blush. “Uh, sorry. Dumb joke. Here… uh, here’s one-oh-two and two-ten?”

He knelt and picked up a few errant pages of a novel, identifiable only by the title printed at the top of every other page. With a cautious smile and a lift of an eyebrow, Gilbert tried to hand them to the girl.

“Thanks,” Anne mumbled, taking the pages she was handed and reaching for the last one. She shifted off her sore knees and started to sort the pages, thankful they were numbered and easily organized. A few moments passed and she glanced back at the boy to find him still there, just staring at her. After making eye contact, he apparently decided to make himself at home and sat with his legs crossed a few feet from her.

“I’m Gilbert, by the way,” he said, brushing some dust off his jeans and trying to look friendly. “I just got sent here yesterday. Does uh… does that kind of thing happen a lot?”

Anne looked up again to catch his frown, with matching downturned eyebrows, and shrugged. 

“Won’t happen to you. You’re too tall. Too old,” Anne murmured, tossing a braid over her shoulder as she pulled the pile of papers into her lap, worn dress pulled across her crossed legs, absently flicking through the corners to see how far she’d gotten in her organizing.

“What about you?” Gilbert asked, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his knees.

“Not tall enough, not old enough,” she said simply, keeping her eyes on the remnants of her book, brushing her cheek with the back of her hand and leaving a trail of dirt that stood out against her pale skin.

“How old are you, then? I’ll be eighteen in six months, so I won’t be here long. Bit of a waste, really, but they seem to be sticklers about shit, aren't they?” Gilbert huffed, irritated, but hoping sharing information about himself would get her talking to him. He didn’t feel like going back downstairs to be around the others in the boys’ wing, but no longer felt like being alone like he originally intended on his trip up to the top of the building.

Anne hesitated, fingers stopping at page one hundred that was beside a page three hundred and five. “I just turned sixteen,” she admitted. “And they are. Very adamant about their archaic law and order.”

Anne’s eyes fell to her hands and stopped at the grime under her fingernails. She remembered a brief time when her hands had been covered in dirt, but from good, honest labor (as she had seen it be called in a book once). Playing in the mud had never been a pastime allowed in any of the foster homes she had briefly lived in and especially not in the home she was in now. But the one time she had been on a farm, surrounded by earth, had felt different. Anne still hadn’t been there to play, but she also wasn’t there to work. She simply helped because she was asked, because she wanted to, because she could do something that would allow her to later see the literal fruits of her labor. Poking tiny holes in the milled soil had seemed so fanciful and had willed her imagination to grow just the same. Hope had also grown at the place she had known would be her last chance, but, as she should have expected, she hadn’t been there long enough to see anything sprout from that soft bed in the yard. She hadn’t even been there long enough to get a teacher at school to spell her name correctly.

“... Hey?”

Anne flinched back into the musty attic at the light touch to her knee. Her eyes shot over to the boy pulling his hand back, his brow furrowed with concern.

“I didn’t get your name,” he said, aiming to keep his voice light.

“Anne,” she said.

“A-N-N? Or A-N-N-E?” Gilbert asked curiously.

Anne looked back down at her book, title long since peeled off the cover, and poked some of the pages back into place. “With an ‘e’,” she shrugged. “Or just, whatever. They aren’t big on individuality here. Just stick with your own bunk, but the rest is a bit of a free-for-all.”

“How long have you been here?” Gilbert asked, frowning again.

“In and out since I was young. In for good for three years now,” Anne said. She found this guy surprisingly chatty but decided not to be too ungrateful for someone to talk to, especially if it wouldn’t last long. “I had my last shot when I was thirteen, which was a feat in and of itself, really. But the system’s silly rules pulled me straight back here.”

“Was the couple not religious enough?” Gilbert guessed derisively.

“Mister and Missus were really Mister and Miss. I was there for a few months before they realized they were just brother and sister. Nothing weird, just never married, like that’s a crime or something,” Anne muttered, feeling the familiar pit in her stomach at the thought of her time with them, but long-since used to making herself care less each time. “You only have a few months, you could probably get away with running for a bit, if you’re good at it.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Two years is too long. They have it out for me a little, anyway, and I don’t think I should test it. But you’re a boy, you probably could.”

Gilbert shook his head. “I did some running. It’s not that worth it. Besides, I can handle a few months,” he shrugged.

“Did you go anywhere?” Anne asked hesitantly, trying not to appear like she really wanted to know. She hadn’t dared to let real thoughts form of what she might do once she was free of this place, and especially not of where she would go. She wouldn’t have anything once she walked out of these doors, they didn’t even allow the children to have cellphones, but she knew she had to keep her thoughts of the future somewhat realistic.

Gilbert took a breath, glancing at the dirty window that let in a few beams of sunlight.

“When my dad died a few years ago,” he started, feeling Anne’s eyes on him and knowing she was listening. “That made me officially an orphan. And I ran. Hopped on some trains to go out west. When I wanted to go east, I got on a boat. Got caught. But I was lucky enough to be sent to live with some old family friends I hadn’t seen since my dad got sick.”

“That’s lucky,” Anne whispered, scooting over a bit to lean against the attic wall.

Gilbert let out a deep breath, his frown becoming more prominent as he picked at the hem of his pants.

“They had a kid. I was kinda worried they wouldn’t have room for me anymore,” he murmured before clearing his throat and blinking rapidly. “But I became an uncle instead…”

“That sounds lovely,” Anne said, keeping her voice soft as she thought of the unimaginable idea of having a family like that.

“And then Mary got sick too.” Gilbert’s voice was almost too quiet to hear but Anne heard as she watched his breath hitch and tears fall from his eyelashes. “And they wouldn’t let a single father keep me, even though I’m almost eighteen. They wouldn’t even let me go to the funeral...”

Anne remained silent, having no words to give to this new boy. She both understood all too well his plight, the harm this instability could cause, but also knew she had never been anywhere quite long enough to form the bonds Gilbert obviously had with the people he spoke of. He had had time to grow attached to his father and the family that took him in, and she knew she would sound insensitive to tell him how lucky he was to have loved and lost, no matter how true she felt it was. But she also felt she could understand better than most the feeling of being pulled back and forth, of being on a hole-filled boat, victim to the whims of the tide. Anne herself had another two years of this to look forward to, but wondered if less time would feel just as volatile. 

With thoughts turning through her head that she had long since given up on voicing aloud, all Anne could do was express some sort of solidarity. Oddly, most of the children in this home had similar stories, but Anne couldn’t tell if they all pushed each other away in anger, or just her. But… she wondered if maybe this boy hadn’t been here long enough to get that negative energy boiling in his gut. Or maybe he was just different.

Silently, Anne shifted closer, her dress bringing some of the floor dust with her, and put her hand on top of Gilbert’s where it was clenching itself into a fist.

In return, Gilbert had also run out of words and, also silently, just let his hand relax and turn over to hold Anne’s properly. To his surprise, the action mimicked the way his lungs seemed to loosen. He focused on taking deep breaths as, beside him, Anne brought her knees to her chest and made herself smaller, neither of them looking at their clasped hands.

* * *

The next day was Monday, which signalled the start of the school week for the kids at “the Home” as they called it. No matter what schooling the children did or did not have prior to being thrust in the place, they all attended the classes designed by the matron. The classes were divided by age but not as strictly as real schools. For all the disappointment it caused her, Anne somewhat benefited from being at the place for so long because she at least stopped jumping from school to school, never being anywhere long enough to drag together decent grades. While the teaching at the home left much to be desired, Anne ended up just teaching herself as much as she could with what few books they had. She kind of wished she could be allowed to help some of the younger kids, maybe, because she felt it a waste to not try to foster a love for learning. But not much love of any kind was fostered in this place.

The room designated for the older children was crammed with desks assigned to each “student” but was strictly alphabetical. As a “Shirley,” Anne was on the far left near the back most of the time (with the population constantly fluctuating as kids aged out every month and new ones aged in), but nothing stopped her from taking her notes. When she first arrived back at the home for good, she had tried to dredge up some enthusiasm in the classroom, but quickly learned such a thing was not appreciated. But what wasn’t able to come out of her mouth could go down on paper. They weren't given much, but she found she could often ask the almost-eighteen-year-olds for their leftover notebooks before they left and they wouldn’t care enough not to acquiesce. Anne never knew what happened to them after they left, not sure if they were able to keep going to school or not, but could only do her best for herself in this place.

The first half of the day went as usual. The person teaching the class (Did a teacher need qualifications? Did this man have them?) droned on about Canadian history and took no questions from the mass of students before him. Most had learned to stop asking, but it seemed Gilbert didn’t know that yet. He was near the front of the class, making Anne assume his last name started with “b” or “c,” and had raised his hands a few times before letting it fall on his desk in frustration.

Anne didn’t expect to see much of him after they had left the attic the day before, once it got too dark. The matron was quite strict about not interacting in class, sitting in assigned seats, and, especially, the separation of the boys’ and girls’ dorms. There were a few other boys that were close to Gilbert’s age and she assumed he’d figure that out soon. She had written a little about the moment they shared in the attic (she found it sounded nice when referred to as such) in the notebook she kept stashed away that she used as a journal. But she didn’t try to catch his eye or anything once the teacher signalled they were free to go to lunch for the little time they had before they were expected to return.

The main stairway was where Anne often had her lunch. The matron gave up long ago on making them all stay in one place to eat and just focused on punishments if they returned to class late. Anne was often left alone, the group of girls that like to pick on her usually kept to themselves during the day when their time was more closely monitored. So Anne ended up startled and she flinched when someone suddenly sat beside her, her school notebook falling from her lap to slide down a few stairs.

“Oh, sorry,” Gilbert said, gripping his lunch to his lap as he reached down to fetch Anne’s notebook. “Are these your class notes? Do you think I could borrow them later? I can’t tell if whatever that guy is teaching us is stuff I learned so long ago I forgot or something no one teaches at real school anymore.”

Anne looked over at him to find his kind eyes on her, crinkled slightly as he smiled at his own remark. She hadn’t expected him to try to find her, so she was surprised at his appearance now. But as she processed his request, she felt her stomach clench a little in resignation at him just using her for her notes, which she figured was a safe assumption.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, turning back to her meager sandwich. 

“Thanks,” he said earnestly as he set her notebook down beside her before stuffing half his cheese sandwich in his mouth. Gilbert couldn’t help but keep glancing over at Anne as they ate in silence, the noise of a house full of children streaming through the hallways. He was trying not to let his current circumstances get to him, but he knew that was easier for someone who had a shorter timeline and could see the light at the end of the tunnel, even if it was obviously going to drag on. He couldn’t imagine being here for as long as Anne, and with so much time left. He wondered if she had always been the apparent opposite of her bright hair that stood out from the crowd, or if, maybe, her quietness was something learned. Based on the lunchtime noises he could hear and the ruckus he had attempted to escape yesterday, Gilbert couldn’t really answer that question for sure.

“You can take that one,” Anne said, breaking the silence and pointing to the notebook she had dropped. “I have another one for math and science, which is what we focus on after lunch.”

“Do they include the Soulmate section in history or in science?” Gilbert asked, his left hand unconsciously going to the spot on his right wrist where a mark would show up, ironically, at the same time as he was freed from this place.

Appetite gone, Anne stuffed her trash in the paper bag they were given and let it fall to the step on which her feet were resting.

“They don’t,” she said flatly.

“Don’t what?” Gilbert asked, his eyebrows expressing his confusion. “My school lumped it in with sex ed—”

“They don’t do that either,” Anne interrupted, cheeks heating up.

“Wait, what?”

“They don’t have anyone telling them what to teach as much as regular schools,” Anne shrugged. “They don’t think teaching us about sex ed or Soulmates is appropriate. So they just don’t.”

“You guys don’t know—”

“We know,” Anne said, hunching over a bit as she leaned against the railing, arms wrapping around herself. “It kind of gets passed around. But um… It’s a bit taboo? Not everyone gets a Mark here so… no one really talks about it… loudly, I guess.”

At this, Gilbert looked shocked, eyebrows flying up his forehead. 

“ _What_? I thought that was, like, really rare?” Gilbert asked, incredulous but trying to keep his voice down.

Anne just shrugged, glancing away from the way he kept his eyes and all his focus on her. 

“It’s not like they come back and tell us, but it gets around. Not all have one when they get their bus ticket to leave, on their birthday,” Anne mumbled, absently tugging on the hem of her second-hand jeans that showed too much ankle.

Gilbert frowned, looking from Anne to some of the other kids that were walking the halls. They all looked to be wearing clothes that didn’t fit all that well and also that they were often fed lunches like the one he finished: meals that were just on the edge of not enough. 

He couldn’t remember what his old teacher had said about people that don’t get a Soulmate Mark on their birthday. He mostly remembered his class tittering and giggling because most had parents to teach them this stuff anyway. Gilbert had heard plenty of stories from his father since he often wanted to hear about his mother and the Mark she shared with John. An image of Bash came to mind as Gilbert remembered his friend showing his Mark to his newborn daughter and little Delphine reaching for it with her tiny hand. It made him think of Mary and the fact that Bash no longer had a Match out there, not anymore. But for some of these kids in this house to walk out the door without even that to lead them anywhere out in the world? It made his stomach turn against the crushed chips he had been given in his sad brown paper bag.

Anne snuck a glance at Gilbert but turned away again at the painful look on his face. From a young age, she had longed for a few things out of life that she had never ended up receiving. But when she was old enough to notice that some of the other girls left with empty wrists once the doors were opened to them, Anne always got a pit in her stomach when she thought about it. She devoured any novel she could find, of course, but the romance stories had a special place in her heart. She could imagine herself as one of these heroines that, despite their circumstances in life, ended up finding their Match. As she got older, however, her imagination limited itself to just those books. She could see herself as Elizabeth or Sue or any of the other girls that woke up every day with a Mark standing out against their skin. But she couldn’t imagine herself as… herself. All she could see was the freckles on her arm every morning.

Anne almost wished she could go back to when she believed herself to be a long-lost princess or any other fanciful idea that filled her head when she was younger. Believing in what could obviously never happen felt more comfortable than trying to think about something that may happen but had a very good chance of never coming to fruition. The problem being that she had no idea how the odds swayed.

A mangled bell sound rang through the house and it erupted in more noise as all the kids started to herd back towards the classrooms. 

Anne picked up her trash and snatched Gilbert’s out of his lap as she jumped up.

“I try to get some time outside before dinner when the weather is nice,” she said, looking down at him and gesturing to her notebook. “So. When you’re done with those.”

She then scurried down the stairs to get back to her desk on time, leaving Gilbert frowning on the stairs behind her.

* * *

The only place to get a moment’s peace in this place was, unfortunately, the musty attic. The only place to see anything of beauty, however, was the backyard that was, unfortunately, always overrun by screaming children.

Anne couldn’t fault them for having any amount of fun with what little free time they actually had, but being able to enjoy a nice book under a tree was never going to happen out there. She took what she could get, though, and tried to spend some time getting fresh air when the weather permitted, despite the continuous shrieks threatening her with a headache.

That Monday evening, Anne sat on the rusty bench by the edge of the property, going over some of her notes from the latest math lesson. With that subject being her least favorite (one could only self-teach so much when they start mixing letters with all the numbers), Anne let her frustrations get the better of her and tossed her notes onto the ground to lean back against the unforgiving bench.

When she looked up to avoid looking down at her notebook in the grass, Anne found Gilbert walking towards her. She hesitantly returned the friendly wave he gave her as he dodged the “it” in the latest game of tag taking up the area with the just-too-tall grass.

“Hey,” he greeted, plopping down on the bench beside her and handing her her other notebook. “Thanks for that, it helped. Luckily, whatever whats-his-face was talking about after lunch was stuff that sounded familiar so I think I’ll be okay with that. I’m not sure how much this’ll screw up my graduating, but I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”

Anne nodded, setting her notebook for her preferred subjects in her lap. She blinked at Gilbert as he stayed where he was seated, looking at her despite the hoard of seven-year-olds running like a flock of birds around them.

When it became obvious he wasn’t going to leave like she expected him to, Anne said, “They say we have our high school degree once we leave…”

“Any college counselors around…” Gilbert trailed off at Anne’s flat look. He sighed. “I guess I just have to hope my acceptance letter still holds up after this.”

Anne sat up straighter. “Do you know what you want to study?” she asked, a bit more life in her voice.

“I want to study medicine,” Gilbert said, a sad smiling coming to his face. “It feels a little naive now to think I could help people one day but… maybe?”

“I like that idea,” Anne said softly but honestly, turning herself to face Gilbert on the bench. “We need more people with ideas like that.”

“We can all try, at least,” Gilbert said, his head tilting slightly as he looked at Anne, noticing that she was holding herself smaller and that she seemed to do that often. “What about you?”

“Helping people?”

“No, what do you want to study?”

Anne frowned and pulled her knees up against her chest so she was now sitting sideways on the bench.

“I don’t know. Something useful, I guess. So I can get a job,” she shrugged, knowing she had to be particularly practical once she left this place.

“Not literature? The book you had in the attic yesterday, I don’t think that was on my high school reading list at least.”

Anne shrugged again. Books had always been her refuge but fantasies obviously weren’t realistic.

“Mr. Phillips says english degrees are as useless as degrees in art, that’s why we don’t have art classes and only have english a few times a week.”

“One day of Mr. Phillips has taught me more about his teaching abilities than anything else,” Gilbert said derisively, causing the corner of Anne’s mouth to twitch. “I hope he’s not the one in charge of teaching any of these boys how to shave or anything, not with that thing on his lip.”

If anyone had looked over at the pair on the bench, they would’ve seen Gilbert Blythe looking rather pleased with himself as Anne Shirley, uncharacteristically, dissolved into giggles at whatever he had said. 

“I won’t be able to not think of that in class tomorrow,” Anne gasped from behind her hand as tears of laughter welled.

“Maybe he’ll call on me if he thinks I’m laughing at him,” Gilbert chuckled, unable to stop from grinning over at the girl beside him as he noticed the fading light catching in her hair as she tried to wipe at her eyes.

“That’s not something you want to play with, Gilbert,” Anne said, shaking her head as her giggles died down.

“Seems these kids might need some entertainment,” he joked, smirking to show that he wasn’t serious.

“I think everyone’s mutual disdain for Mr. Phillips is the only real unifier here,” Anne said ruefully, pulling today’s single braid over her shoulder to fidget with it. 

“I’m surprised no one’s started a mutiny,” Gilbert teased, looking out at the passing wave of kids. “I bet Lord of the Flies is not on this school’s curriculum.”

Anne glanced down at the end of her braid, wrinkling her nose both at the color and the idea of an uprising. “Things can always get worse, Gilbert,” she said simply and honestly, making his smile fall as they both watched the kids surrounding them.

Anne’s words made Gilbert think of some of the children he had seen on the street in some of the cities he had been in when he ran away. He now understood how privileged he had been, in having a family like the Lacroixs to live with, and even now, still having a roof over his head at the least. He turned from the yard to Anne, watching her eyes flick from kid to kid. He wondered if, as soul-crushing this place seemed at times, she had experienced worse.

“It can get better, too,” Gilbert murmured, catching Anne’s gaze as she looked back at him.

Anne didn’t respond as she watched him watch her. She had hoped for that very thing once, even twice, but knew just getting through the day, every day, was what she needed to focus on. But she couldn’t help but wonder if, just maybe, the next six months might go a bit quicker for some reason.

* * *

A few days later class ended for the day but Anne didn’t stand from her desk like the everyone else. She stayed frowning at the last math problem they had done, chewing her lip in frustration at how little she understood the formula Mr. Phillips spent the afternoon making them recite (as if that helped them learn how to use it). 

“You look like you’re trying to make your notes burst into flames,” Gilbert teased as he walked up to her after noticing she hadn’t gotten up yet.

Anne sighed, looking up at him. Every day since Monday Gilbert had met her after class for the free time they had before dinner. She wasn’t quite sure why, and had seen him brush off some of the other older boys who had tried to talk to him, but wasn’t stupid enough to ask for an explanation.

“I hate math,” Anne said drolly, slamming her notebook closed.

“It’s not so bad,” Gilbert shrugged, keeping his tone light. “It’s a pattern so things can’t go off course too much. I learned this stuff last year, you want me to help?”

Anne’s first instinct was to push him away, sure he was going to use this to make fun of her. But he just smiled down at her, obviously expecting her to say yes as he couldn’t think of a reason for her not to. She wasn’t sure if she’d regret falling for his earnest eyebrows on his earnest face, but she did know she didn’t have anyone else to ask for help, even if she hated doing so.

“Fine,” she muttered, caught off guard as usual at the sight of his grin directed at her. Anne stood and followed as Gilbert led them back outside and to their usual bench despite how uncomfortable it was. He seemed used to the outdoors and Anne had always appreciated what little time out in nature she got.

As they made their way outside, Anne and Gilbert passed the group of girls that had been bothering her when they first met. They didn’t say anything to her, not with Gilbert there, but she saw a few of the older girls smile at Gilbert, which he didn’t notice, and then turn their glares back onto her. Anne just walked a little faster, knowing they’d find fault in her no matter what she did, but figured that was just something she’d have to deal with later. 

Once settled on the bench, flecks of rust rubbed into their clothes, Anne allowed Gilbert to start from the beginning and explain the current mathematical predicament of the day. Unsurprisingly, Gilbert had much more patience as a teacher than Mr. Phillips. Surprisingly, Anne caught on faster than expected as she wrote down as much as possible to help her future self. After a while their focus strayed away from schoolwork.

“Most of those movies have Soulmates in them,” Gilbert said, eyebrows furrowed as they talked about the rare movie night the kids were granted. “I thought you said they didn’t like talking about that?”

“But the morals of the stories are very blatant so the matron thinks they’ll teach us all to be good little boys and girls,” Anne said sneered.

“I mean, I guess a monthly movie night makes sense if you want to make these guys be quiet for an hour and a half,” Gilbert mocked, looking pointedly at the sticks a group of the younger kids were waving around. “I’m just surprised at some of the choices.”

“Anything with magic is out, too ungodly, of course. If they mention Soulmates, they can’t, like, get too detailed. A boring heternormative relationship is preferred. No blood or gore. Ideally not too many movies with pets so no kid gets any ideas about sneaking one in. Absolutely nothing that promotes asking too many questions, especially not of an authority figure,” Anne listed off, trying not to laugh at the grimace on Gilbert’s face.

“No wonder you spend all your time with your nose in books,” Gilbert said, shaking his head.

“I do love reading. It’s harder for the matron to censor those while keeping enough of our ‘library’ stocked as the rules dictate, especially since she depends on donations mostly,” Anne said, her arm resting along the back of the bench so she could lean her head against it. 

“I guess not having TV to watch kinda forces kids to use their imagination more.”

“You’re not wrong in that,” Anne said. “That’s all I had back then…”

“What about now?” Gilbert asked, sitting sideways on the bench like Anne. 

Anne’s gaze slid down to a piece of the bench with flaking rust that she was picking at. “I write, sometimes. When I can.”

“Oh, wow, that’s cool,” Gilbert said, sounding surprisingly earnest to Anne’s ears. “Can I read any?”

Anne sat up a little, shaking her head. “No, no, it’s nothing intelligible, yet,” she said hurriedly.

“Then I guess I’ll have to wait to see an Anne Shirley original at my local bookstore,” Gilbert grinned. “I’ll even buy it as a hardcover.”

“Sure,” Anne laughed, rolling her eyes.

“I’m serious,” Gilbert said, tapping her foot with his, able to tell she was joking more than he was. 

“Uh huh. I’ll dedicate it to you,” she teased.

“To my muse, Gilbert Blythe,” Gilbert said seriously, giving her a mock bow.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Anne said, shaking her finger at him mockingly and biting back a smile as he snorted in laughter. 

* * *

Anne leaned over her bed, glad that despite its many lumps, it was only a single so it wasn’t as difficult to cover with the fitted sheet. Most of the girls had already made their beds but Anne was left last since she had been made to deliver all the freshly laundered linens as punishment for being caught reading the night before.

Just as she had everything tucked in tightly enough to pass inspection, her mattress was suddenly shoved off the frame.

Anne held back as sigh as she stood up and found a small group of the older girls encircling her.

“That wasn’t necessary,” Anne mumbled before she was the one being shoved. She hissed when her shin caught the sharp edge of the bed frame as she landed on her butt on the unforgiving springs.

“Shut it, Shirley,” Cora snapped as the eldest and the de facto leader. “Or you’ll make us late to class.”

Anne refrained from asking how that would be her fault and just frowned up at the girl, ignoring her throbbing leg.

“We’ve seen you mooning over the new boy,” one of the other girls, Breanna, sneered.

“Cora has dibs so you need to back the fuck off,” another (Molly?) ordered, ignoring Anne’s confused look.

“Or else we’ll tell the matron what you’re really doing up in that attic,” Cora taunted, crossing her arms as she quirked a dark eyebrow.

“What we’re doing?” Anne asked, genuinely lost now.

“You know the matron will believe the worst, especially if you’re involved,” Breanna said snidely.

Anne frowned as her stomach flipped uncomfortably. She had read enough books to take a stab at whatever they were referring to but also felt embarrassed at the fact that she wasn’t educated enough to know for sure. She didn’t know what to do with this as she really preferred not to receive any of the matron’s attention, but also wasn’t sure she could stop talking to Gilbert even if she wanted to.

“Fine,” she said, knowing no other answer would get them to leave. Anne stood, stumbling slightly as she twisted to pull her mattress back upright. It looked horrible but she’d have to fix it later. It wasn’t until she had been allowed to leave the dorm and was on her way to class that she realized it was blood leaking down her leg just past the hem of her dress.

“Anne!”

Anne turned in the hallway, catching Cora’s eye as she passed, but waiting for Gilbert to catch up to her.

“Your leg!” Gilbert gasped, tilting his head to look at her cut. “You need something on that—”

“We have class—”

“Not like that you don’t,” Gilbert said sternly, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the kitchens and not noticing the other girls’ eyes following them as they went.

Anne huffed as she allowed Gilbert to tug her along, beginning to limp a little.

“The little kids’ teacher is a trained nurse—”

“The kitchen has to have a first aid kit, that’s all we need,” Gilbert said authoritatively. He was glad the kitchen was empty, he was sure this wasn’t exactly allowed, but he had been ready to plea his case anyway. “Okay, sit.”

Anne rolled her eyes but obeyed, sitting on a stool by the island and watching Gilbert putter around. She wrinkled her nose as he went into the pantry. “They’ll know if you—”

“I’m not getting anything to eat,” Gilbert interrupted, coming back to kneel beside her and dropping his haul. “We just need a little honey.”

“Okay, Professor Lupin—”

“Shut up,” Gilbert grinned as he made himself more comfortable on the ground and started to clean her cut.

Anne opened her mouth to tease him some more but her words left her head as she felt his hands so gentle on her leg. All thoughts of the other girls’ threats also disappeared as she watched his brow furrow in concentration as he helped her more kindly than any adult ever had.

“Thanks,” was all she could mumble as he finished, making sure her bandage was on properly.

Gilbert raised his head and found Anne staring down at him. He was sitting closer to her than ever before and found himself counting a few new freckles. Only when the signal for class flooded through the house did either move.

“Here,” Gilbert said, standing and helping her up. He pulled something out of his pocket and slipped it into her hand with a wink.

As they made their way to class, knowing Mr. Phillips wasn’t going to be pleased, Anne looked down and found a stolen chocolate truffle and she could only smile around the evidence she had to stuff in her mouth lest they were caught. 

* * *

“It’s Delphine’s birthday,” Gilbert said with a bittersweet smile when Anne asked him what was wrong after taking a look at his face at lunch. He didn’t talk about Bash, Delphine, or Mary often. Both because it would hurt too much, in so many ways, but also because he felt one of the unspoken rules about this place was not talking about what you have or don’t have, or did have, outside these walls. He knew enough of Anne’s story and could only guess most of the other kids’ were similar.

Anne reached up from her spot on the step below his to take his hand and squeeze it in solidarity. She could tell he was close to the little girl, not really knowing what kind of title she had in Gilbert’s life but did know that titles meant different things to different people. She knew blood meant nothing when it came to family.

“We could do something in her honor,” Anne suggested hesitantly, biting her lip as she pulled her hand away from his and half-noticed him absently scratching at his wrist, right where a Mark would appear in a few months.

“Like what?” Gilbert asked, stuffing the last of his squashed sandwich into his paper bag, no longer hungry.

Anne pursed her lips, glancing around before leaning in. “Meet me at the bench after class,” she whispered.

“Where we always go after class?” Gilbert asked sarcastically, earning a flick to the shin.

“So you shouldn’t have any trouble remembering,” Anne sniffed, standing up with her trash and walking away towards a garbage can, not noticing the way Gilbert’s eyes followed her.

Once class was over for the day, the physics lesson making it drag on, Gilbert was one of the first out of the room. Anne put her textbook away at her own pace, feeling Cora’s eyes watching her, but eventually made it outside to where she could see Gilbert waiting.

After reaching the bench, Anne looked around furtively before gesturing for Gilbert to follow her around to the side of the house once she deemed the coast clear.

Anne stopped at a large tree and, after checking for onlookers again, slipped behind it so she was completely out of view of the rest of the yard. Gilbert could only follow.

“Hope those jeans are flexible,” Anne teased, missing Gilbert’s eyebrows shooting up as she bent over to tie her dress together between her legs like she read about in a book once. Without waiting for a response, Anne used two large nails sunk into the trunk of the tree to make it to the lowest branch thick enough to hold her weight. She pulled on various branches to be sure it was safe, and, before Gilbert knew it, she was at least fifteen feet above ground.

“Anne?”

“Come on, quick,” Anne hissed before she completely disappeared into the foliage.

Gilbert huffed but had no other choice. He glanced around before beginning his ascent, very aware he was not making it look as graceful as Anne had. Once he reached her, doing his best not to look down, he found her nestled in a nice naturally formed nook, grinning over at him. It was the brightest he had ever seen her smile and he wondered if she was really some sort of changeling that had been left at the wrong place.

“Are we allowed up here?” he asked instead, frowning as he tried to find a safe spot to sit.

“Nope,” Anne said cheerfully, nudging him over to a branch across from her. 

“But—”

“It’s only for special occasions,” Anne insisted before elaborating. “I used to spend a lot of time up here. Before I was sent to… the last place. That was the worst switching I got here, when the matron eventually found out I had snuck those nails and somehow got them in the tree. But how else was I supposed to get up to that first branch?”

Anne was too busy looking down, legs swinging, to see the frown on Gilbert’s face.

“Did that make you stop?” he asked carefully.

“That and she threatened to cut it down. I think she’d actually need to get permits, to be honest, but I didn’t want to risk it,” Anne said, reaching up to pluck a leaf off the branch above her.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Gilbert started.

“It’s fine, Gil, I promise. Just this once. Just a tiny adventure, for Delphine,” Anne insisted softly.

Gilbert didn’t say anything as he looked at her, seemingly at home in this large oak. She was almost a different person from the one he watched leave the ground moments ago. It made him both wish he could go back and give young Anne a whole magical garden in which to play and hope that Delphine would be there after his birthday and he could spend a whole month playing outside with her. Anne probably had no idea how he saw her, part fae in this tree, but also knew his new desire to be out in nature with his niece was her actual intention.

“One of your stories should be a fantasy,” he said instead. “Maybe a character could control nature or something.”

Anne’s chin dipped to her chest as she smiled, shrugging him off. “Maybe,” she said, trying not to think of a few ideas just like that she had jotted down in her notebook. 

* * *

While the students were sure Mr. Phillips and the other grumpy teachers would appreciate it, those forced to try and learn at the Home did not get summer breaks. Even Anne would have found some pleasure in not going to class five days a week, but she also knew that no one had any idea what they would do for two months without the class structure. Anne had laughed at Gilbert’s incredulous look when he found out, but also believed all the kids probably benefited from such a format as most were woefully behind on the education front anyway.

Being stuck in a classroom as a heat wave took over July was definitely enough of a punishment that even Mr. Phillips became somewhat lax and finished his science lesson early, allowing them to intermingle for once, until the bell rang.

Anne idly scratched at the scab on her shin before tugging at the hem of her dress a little. It had gotten tighter lately but was also the thinnest one she had; she couldn’t be paid to put on some of her winter dresses, the few she had, in this weather. She glanced up at the movement around her and found Gilbert making a beeline towards her as the other kids formed little pods like magnets.

As Gilbert passed Cora and her friends, they all turned and glared at Anne as one, like they had practised it. Anne hadn’t told Gilbert about their threats, but, in not changing her actions in any way, she had inadvertently called their bluff. She assumed they might have gotten in trouble as well if they tried to tell the matron their lies. But that hadn’t stopped them from making their displeasure known. They had started to do a bunch of little things to get back at Anne. Nothing in front of Gilbert, though, and nothing that would leave a mark like the one she got from the bed frame. She did have bruises all across her shoulder from them constantly running theirs into her in the hallway. She also had to learn to feign a lack of hunger whenever they did something like pour glue into her lunch bag or, one time, somehow get a mouse into her sandwich. Anne honestly was not sure what she did to deserve a friend like Gilbert, no matter how limited their time together was. He wouldn’t question her if she said she didn’t feel well, but more often than not forced her to take half of his own lunch, even if it was just to save for once she felt better. She felt she had lived a lifetime with girls like Cora and knew just staying out of their way was the best policy, but it was nice to have someone to hide out with even if he was kind of the cause of her troubles.

“I grew up in a farming community, I still can’t get over this lack of summer break,” Gilbert grumbled as he all but threw himself into the empty seat in front of Anne’s desk. 

“Did you grow anything?” Anne asked curiously. No one mentioned their childhood much but it was almost like poking your tongue at the hole in your mouth after losing a tooth. His comment made her think of her last foster home and she couldn’t help but ask questions despite the light stabbing feeling in her chest.

“My dad and I had a few apple trees,” Gilbert said, shifting so he was sitting backwards in the chair and leaning on the backrest. “I think my great grandfather or something used to have more but we just had enough for ourselves, really. I couldn’t imagine trying to manage a full farm. Some of my old neighbors still do, somehow.”

Anne opened her mouth to mention the gorgeous farm she had once seen, up close, but thought better of it. Her last foster home really hadn’t been all that different from all the rest, even if it felt separate somehow. Either way, she hadn’t stayed, and that was all that mattered in the end.

“Must have been beautiful when they bloomed,” Anne said instead, finding herself studying the sad smile that came across Gilbert’s face.

“Yeah,” he breathed, blinking down at his hands. Gilbert picked at some of the dirt under his thumbnail as his mind wandered to his childhood home. Technically, he still owned it and he assumed it was still there. He hadn’t wanted to go back after he ran away and he had stayed in Bash and Mary’s apartment with them when they took him in. For the first time in a while, he wondered if maybe he should visit. Maybe a change of scenery for everyone would be nice. He surprised himself a little as he realised he was picturing Anne in his old kitchen too, along with Bash and Delphine.

The bell rang, causing Anne and Gilbert to jump as it broke them both out of their thoughts. Gilbert looked down and found that he had been absently scratching at his right wrist and tried to rub the itch away as he stood and joined the herd exiting the classroom.

* * *

Anne fidgeted with the twine bow she had wrapped around her roll of papers in an imitation of a scroll. She wished she could have done a bit more for this boy that she considered her first real friend, but this would have to do. And she secretly thought, but would barely admit to herself, that if anyone was going to understand and appreciate this as a gift, it would be Gilbert. 

It was early but none of the kids at the home were allowed to sleep in so this was their normal. Anne could tell that the seasons were beginning to turn, she could smell it in the air, and she felt that made it appropriate on such a momentous day for her friend. It wasn’t until the clock was ticking closer to the beginning of class that Anne realized she had been standing outside the boys’ dorm for longer than usual.

“Hey,” she called out to one of the older boys that had arrived not long before Gilbert. “Is Gilbert still in there?”

“Who?” the boy asked with a disdainful look on his sunburnt face.

Anne rolled her eyes. “Gilbert. White. Tall. Brown Hair. Sits next to you in class?”

“Blythe? Think the matron got him his bus ticket before the effing sun was up,” the boy complained before waving her off and walking away.

Anne gaped at the boy’s retreating back as she stood in the empty hallway. She heard the familiar sound of crumpled paper and looked down to find her hand clenching the roll of papers on which she had stayed up all night writing. It was a story (fictional but heavy on the allegories as it involved a princess and a knight trapped in a crumbling castle) that she had written for Gilbert. For his birthday. But he was already gone, out the door before she had even woken up.

The pit in her stomach was heavy. But so very familiar. Anne thought she had outgrown this feeling of disappointment and hurt but figured it may be a lifelong ailment that grows and sticks to you like a barnacle. A barnacle stuck to a rock without the tools to scrape it off. 

Anne once had a box of keepsakes that she had successfully kept hold of through a few different foster homes. It didn’t have much. No movie or plane tickets for her. But a nice shell she found on her first and only trip to the beach even though it was too cold to swim. A bird feather as long as her hand. A dried flower from her Snow Queen. She had no idea where that box was now. Treasures stolen, box broken. A thrashing for trying to steal something to put in it, even though that wasn’t what happened. One upon a time, Anne would have put her story in a box with her other trinkets. A different Anne might have even had letters from people who wanted to speak to her, with her, inside such a box.

But this Anne knew better. So she gently placed her scroll in the rarely used recycling bin on her way to her classroom, opening her mouth to speak to no one since she walked alone, as usual.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six years later.

Anne Shirley knew she needed to count her lucky stars that the coffee shop job she had managed to score was one where the manager was used to hiring college students. As long as the work got done, the manager shrugged, Anne could do as much reading as she could fit into a shift. While a pro now at skimming textbook chapters, Anne couldn’t _not_ admit that she oftentimes got lost in any of the novels she was assigned. 

Anne hunched over the counter, practically pressing her nose to her book as she read. She was absolutely entranced by this description of Miss Havisham as she was the first character Anne had ever read that was said to have a blank wrist. The bell above the door suddenly rang, causing Anne to jump and her elbow to slip off the counter, almost making her hit her head on the POS monitor. She held back a curse as she straightened quickly, flipping her book over so she didn’t lose her place. She plastered her usual customer service smile on her face, but it fell, along with her jaw, when she registered who was standing at the door.

Gilbert Blythe appeared frozen just inside the doorway, the glass door falling shut behind him. He looked almost the same despite the six years that had passed since Anne had last seen him. He may have been taller, his curls a bit more unruly, but he looked just as sleep-deprived, which she assumed that could be attributed to the large textbook he had under his arm. Anne watched as his confused face morphed into recognition, then shock. She wondered if she suddenly had heartburn or if that was just the effect he had on her.

Gilbert, on the other hand, felt as if he had been punched in the gut. His eyebrows had come together in confusion at the look on the barista’s face before he realized who it was (the fact that she had her hair stuffed into a baseball cap with the coffee shop’s logo on it throwing him for a second). But as his gaze landed on hers, he’d know those eyes anywhere.

Gilbert was transported back to the Home in which he had spent his last summer as a minor. Time and a little bit of therapy had unraveled most of his uncomfortable memories of the place, but Anne Shirley was the one thing he couldn’t (wouldn’t) forget. He had some regrets in his life, but being shoved out the door, bus ticket in hand, without saying goodbye was probably his biggest. It was one of the list of reasons that, upon stumbling off the bus in Bright River and finding Bash waiting for him in the muggy dawn, Gilbert had immediately broken down in tears. He remembered vividly being pulled against Bash’s chest and just crying, barely noting Bash’s shoulders shaking too.

Gilbert remembered crying over the fact that he had dared question, if only to himself, whether or not anyone would be picking him up at the bus station. Crying over the missed events and birthdays. Crying over being unable to speak with his brother over the previous six months and how big he knew his niece had probably gotten while he was gone. He cried for the boys left miserable in their beds in the middle of the night. He had cried for Mary. And Anne. And the Mark that had appeared on his wrist overnight and the fact that his father wasn’t there to see it.

A loud clanging sound, like a pan being dropped in the back, brought him back to the present. Gilbert stared at Anne behind the counter, his knuckles white as he gripped his backpack strap and his anatomy book. He had honestly not expected to see her again. Ever. He knew there had been no phone to call, as none of the kids were allowed them. He knew no letter would make it to anyone inside, and that the few computers they were allowed for a rare typing class had no internet access. Gilbert could admit that once or twice he had tried to look up “Anne Shirley” on Facebook, and found many options, but none with her distinct hair.

But, out of the blue, there she was.

“Anne,” Gilbert said, her name falling out of his mouth. He watched as she almost flinched at the sound of his voice, also looking like she was taken back to that uncomfortable bench that threatened to give them tetanus every time they sat there.

“Gilbert,” Anne sighed, coming to her senses as he stepped forward. While the _absolute_ last people she expected to walk through that coffee shop door were all dead, Gilbert was high on that list. She never faulted him for leaving, knowing none of them had any sort of control over their situations back then. But, if she had to admit it, she would maybe say that she wasn’t too sure if the pain of his departure had ever really left her. Not that she ever had to say that out loud and definitely not to him. Not when she was just there at that moment to serve him coffee. She opened her mouth to ask him what he wanted to order but didn’t get the chance.

“Are you in school?” Gilbert blurted, voice too loud for the empty coffee shop, as he used his own textbook to gesture towards the book in front of her.

“Oh,” Anne frowned, glancing down at her book and moving it under the counter. “Yeah. Working on my Bachelor’s. In between shifts.”

Gilbert watched as Anne shrugged self-deprecating but felt like his face was going to split in half with the grin that took over before he knew it.

“QCU? Me too,” he beamed. “Just started med school. Was that Dickens? You’re studying literature, then?”

“No, no,” Anne said quickly, grimacing slightly. “Just a few classes. Maybe as a minor. I’m working on a business admin degree. Something useful, you know.”

Anne had worked too hard on getting her GED verified, and scavenging for scholarships to finally work on getting a degree, to waste it on a subject that would just get scoffed at by hiring managers. So many of her fellow students, a few years her junior, had grown up just _knowing_ these kinds of things about college and university life, and she knew she had a lot of catching up to do. But she was a quick learner and knew she was doing the best with what she had. She hoped.

“That’s great,” Gilbert enthused earnestly, grinning down at Anne. “I’m so glad. Really.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Anne murmured, biting her lip at the weight of his gaze. He seemed genuinely pleased for her and she didn’t know how to take that. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to receive his full attention like this.

Gilbert opened his mouth to say something else but his phone started to chirp from his pocket.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling it out and silencing it. “I have to go.”

“Oh. Okay—” Anne started to say, a little thrown by this whole encounter.

“Hey,” Gilbert said, feeling like this was a make or break moment. “Why don’t you stop by the cafe soon? My brother’s? I pick up a few shifts there sometimes. You should stop by and I can treat you to lunch or something? I’m usually there on the weekends.”

“Oh,” Anne blinked, feeling like that was the only word in her vocabulary today. Had her life felt this off-filter with him in it before, even for such a brief time? She knew people suggested coffee or lunch with people with whom they had no actual intention of meeting. But Gilbert’s enthusiasm was hard to doubt. “Um. What’s it called?”

“Mary’s.”

Anne started to say something, maybe give a vague non-answer so she could think about it, before remembering why that name sounded familiar. 

“Okay,” she said instead, her shoulders coming down from where they had started to raise to her ears. “Where is it?”

“Here,” Gilbert said hurriedly, reaching into another pocket to pull out his wallet. He fumbled for a moment but managed to pluck out a bright blue business card. Gilbert had ordered a stack of 500 a few years ago and was still going through it. He held it out to her.

Anne looked down at the card (“Mary’s Cafe”) but found her eyes immediately drawn to his wrist. It was a little rude of her, that much she had learned since leaving the Home for good, but not uncommon. It wasn’t something she had pondered on often, really, but the thought of Gilbert’s short time under the control of the marton causing his Mark not to show up haunted her a bit. But it looked like she had been wrong.

Hesitantly, Anne reached out to take the card. Her cheeks heated up as her blank wrist was put on display but she couldn’t tell if Gilbert even snuck a look like she did.

“I hope you stop by,” Gilbert said, smiling kindly and only noticing her blush and nothing else.

“I will,” Anne found herself promising, the heat on her cheeks spreading at the way it made Gilbert’s smile grow.

“Great,” he said, starting to back up. “It was great to see you, Anne.”

“You too,” she murmured as she idly scratched at her wrist, watching him stumble through the doorway and frowning slightly as she realized he had left without ordering anything.

* * *

“This paragraph needs to be reworked. Read it out loud and see if you can tell where you went wrong,” Anne instructed, using pencil to mark the third paragraph down and handing it back to Minnie May. She thought using a red pen seemed so harsh and unnecessary. She also had a pack of stickers in her bag that often earned her an eye roll but Anne believed they were actually appreciated.

Anne wasn’t completely sure how she had gotten this side job as a tutor, but she had answered the ad on a whim and assumed Mr. and Mrs. Barry had liked _something_ about her. The more she spent time with her pupil, the more she wondered if they were just hiring anyone to see if they could stick it out. But a few months in and she was still there, so that had to mean something.

She really couldn’t have anything less in common with this teenager, with her large home and overbearing parents and grand piano in the room next door. But Anne did find pleasure and meaning in being able to help a child that had people in her life looking out for her and getting her the extra attention she needed that she couldn’t get from the classroom. She could conjure up a few names of kids she knew way back when that would have benefitted from a tutor like her. She sometimes felt some guilt at the fact that she wasn’t able to provide that for some of the younger kids, at the least, but knew she wouldn’t have been able to do much, in all reality.

But Anne could help Minnie May Barry understand the Romantics and focus more on her essays and work out her chapter questions, so that’s what she would do.

Minnie May grumbled but took her paper back and frowned down at it, her pen tapping the table in a tattoo rhythm. 

Anne silently reached into her purse and pulled out a tiny cube, passing it to the girl. Anne felt she had begrudgingly earned the teenager’s respect some time ago, partly because Anne didn’t snap at her for fidgeting with pens and the like. Instead, Anne provided her with other things to mess with, that were silent but filled the same need. Anne privately assumed Mr. Barry did not understand so she often took them back at the end of their session to provide them next time. Anne also assumed that what little respect she had garnered from the girl was why she had stopped staring at Anne’s blank wrist so obviously.

“I’ll get us some waters,” Anne said, standing up and not waiting for Minnie May to grumble a response. 

Anne made her way to the kitchen, sighing a little at the gorgeous marble countertops. Mrs. Barry had assured her that she could take anything she needed, but Anne usually just stuck with water, not wanting to push her luck.

She grabbed two glasses, cheekily getting the monogram-etched ones because she thought they were funny, and went to fill them with the filtered water in the fridge. When the fridge door closed, there was suddenly another person in the kitchen and Anne gasped, almost dropping the waters.

“Sorry!” the other person gasped themselves, reaching out to help Anne set the glasses safely on the counter.

“No, I’m sorry, you just surprised me,” Anne said, letting out a laugh as she willed her heart to slow down.

“I assumed you were Minnie May, sorry. I’m Diana, by the way,” the woman said, holding out her hand and smiling over at Anne.

“Minnie May’s sister, right?” Anne asked, as she shook her hand, even though she recognized the other woman now based on the many photographs around the house.

“Yes! And you’re Anne! Mother is most impressed with you, I hope you know. A few of Minnie May’s teachers have commented on her better grades,” Diana gushed.

“Oh! I’m glad,” Anne said, surprised. She felt she was doing her best but it was hard to judge whether or not it was really good enough. She really needed the money for this job, and did enjoy doing it, which made her want to succeed even more. But it was often hard to get a read on Mrs. Barry, but it seemed her eldest wasn’t the same.

“Even Minnie May admits she likes you,” Diana whispered conspiratorially.

Anne bit back a smile. “I’ll put that on my resume,” she said, causing Diana to laugh.

“Mother says you’re at Queens? I just graduated, I wonder if we ever passed each other!”

“Oh, I don’t know, I can’t take that many classes a semester so probably not…”

“Well maybe we could grab lunch sometime and compare professors,” Diana suggested.

Anne looked startled for a moment. She could say she was somewhat friendly with some of the other people at the coffee shop, and a few people that sat near her in her few literature classes (Victorian, this semester), but knew she couldn’t boast about a plethora of friends. She spent so much time studying and working that she didn’t have much room in her schedule for socializing, if anyone even wished to do that with her. Anne honestly tried not to talk too much in class and wasn’t sure many even really noticed her. She found it a bit bizarre that this was two lunch invitations she had received in the last week that both seemed strangely genuine.

“Sure,” Anne blurted, trying to return the smile Diana gave her. “I um. I’m actually meeting someone for lunch today, maybe we can go to that place if it’s any good.”

Anne rubbed the inside of her arm against her jeans, her stomach rolling a little as it popped into her head that maybe this was a joke of some kind.

“Sounds great! Where are you going?” Diana asked, actually sounding interested.

“Uh. Mary’s?”

“Oh! I know someone who works there! It’s not that far from here, actually. It’s great, we should definitely go sometime!”

“Anne, I’m done!” Minnie May whined from the other room.

“Her majesty calls,” Diana teased. “I’ll get your number from Mother. Have a good one!”

Anne watched as Diana all but twirled out of the room. She wasn’t sure she had ever met someone who looked as elegant as Diana had, even in just a pair of jeans and ballet flats. Anne couldn’t tell if she was fascinated or jealous but brushed it off as she took the drinks back to where Minnie May awaited.

Later, as Anne waited for Minnie May to write out an outline for her history paper, she saw Diana leaving and returned her parting wave. But instead of continuing out the door, Diana’s brow furrowed and she stuck her head back into the room.

“Sorry if this is weird, but did you go to Avonlea Middle?” Diana asked out of the blue, her eyes on the braid Anne had halfheartedly twisted her hair into for something to fidget with even though she had stopped wearing it like that after leaving the Home.

Anne froze.

“I went to a lot of different schools,” she managed to say, which wasn’t a lie.

“Nevermind, then. Do you ever get deja vu? My friend Ruby swears she gets it twice a day, it seems, but we just think she reads too many romance novels. Anyway, I’ll see you later, I hope! Be nice, Minnie May!”

Once her tutoring session was over, Minnie May gladly showed Anne the door but didn’t slam it behind her, so Anne took that as a good thing.

She stifled a yawn as she made her way off the gorgeous Barry grounds (and past her favorite lake) to get out of the neighborhood towards one of the few bus stops.

When Anne first spoke with Mrs. Barry and found out exactly where they lived, she had wanted to cancel and say it wasn’t going to work out. It was close to the truth, as she had to rely on public transportation and Avonlea was barely scraping by on that front, but Anne also had to admit that she couldn’t let fear or old disappointments take anything from her in the present. Thankfully, the Barry mansion, as Anne called it, was a bit closer to the main part of Avonlea so she didn’t have to walk too far after getting off bus 10. 

It also meant she only got through a few more pages of her book for class before having to pull the cord and get off again, this time in the heart of the main square, to find her way to Mary’s Cafe.

Anne pinched at her leg to try to distract herself from her nerves as she walked down the cobblestone sidewalk. She had barely slept a wink the night before for all the worrying she was doing about this lunch… meeting... _thing_. She swore to herself half a dozen times that she wasn’t going to go, if just as a ploy to make herself finally get some rest, but she knew herself well enough to know she’d regret it if she did. Maybe it was just going to be awkward and Gilbert would see that being friends with some girl he knew for a few months as a teenager was a waste of time and then they’d never see each other again and he would try another coffee shop near the school. But, she told herself, at least she would have tried.

So it was with a thumping heart that Anne pulled open the door to the cafe, painted blue like Gilbert’s business card, and walked in. 

The first thing she noticed, after the sound of happy eaters, was the large framed photograph at the entrance. It was of a beautiful woman with the most welcoming smile Anne had ever seen, and she knew instantly that this was Mary. Despite never knowing the woman, Anne felt her throat tighten. She was afraid she would do something to embarrass herself in front of the other customers so just cleared her throat, tearing her eyes away from the picture. 

Anne realized she was standing in the way as a family walked up to leave. She gave them an attempt at a friendly smile and opened the door for them. The two men, whom she assumed were the parents as they were holding hands, thanked her as they exited. Their child, dragging her feet behind them, looking up at Anne. Whereas Anne smiled down at her, the little girl’s eyes just widened as she stared at Anne’s wrist. One of the dads pulled her away, mumbling an apology, but Anne still sighed as she let the door shut behind them.

She was used to people staring if they noticed, and she tried not to let it bother her, but sometimes she just got so annoyed. Not to say that she didn’t spend her whole bus ride sobbing in the back on her eighteenth birthday, but, nowadays, she just wished people would mind their own business about it or at least not be so obvious. It was a whole _thing_ she just thought was better left locked away. She had the oars now and she was in control of her own boat; she wouldn’t let it bother her that the tides would never take her towards the romances about which she sometimes let herself read. (And if she sometimes fell asleep with tears in her eyes when she couldn’t stop thinking about being the ugly orphan without a Match, she lived alone, so no one had to know.)

“Anne!”

Anne turned around to see Gilbert walking out of the back of the cafe and grinning over at her.

Anne realized she had kind of been hoping she picked a day he wouldn’t be here but guessed he had left it open-ended for a reason. As he walked over, wearing a blue apron covered in flour, Anne also realized she liked the way his smile made her feel (but couldn’t put it into words if asked to explain it).

“Hey,” he breathed, staring down at her like a dope for a moment as he realized he’d never seen her hair down before (always associating her with her braids at the Home). “Uh. Here. We can sit over here and I’ll grab us something to eat. I just had to finish an order for later so, uh, sorry about the mess.”

“You bake?” Anne asked.

“I follow the recipe,” Gilbert clarified pointedly, making Anne’s mouth twitch. “That’s kind of the thing here, really. Everything we make is from one of Mary’s recipes, so…”

“That sounds lovely,” Anne said honestly as she followed Gilbert to a two-seater by the kitchen door.“Here, make yourself comfortable. What do you want to drink?” Gilbert asked, starting to look a bit like someone hosting a meal at their house for the first time.

“Water’s fine,” Anne said as she sat, slipping off her jacket and hanging it on the back of her chair.

Gilbert nodded and went to the back. He returned without his apron but with two glasses of water. 

“Did you want the menu— Are you okay?”

Anne blinked up at him before following his eyeline and noticing that she had her wrist held to her cold cup of water.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just been itching. Maybe I got bit by something,” Anne shrugged off, pulling her hand away. “And I’m not picky, I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Gilbert just nodded again and went back through the kitchen door. On the other side, he frowned. He hadn’t noticed when he first saw her again at the coffee shop but this time he definitely saw that she didn’t have a Soulmark. He had read up on them a bit more after he got his, acknowledging the privilege of being able to do that kind of research unlike Anne and the other kids at the Home. He hadn’t found an answer back then, but had within the last year or so as he was studying for his medical school entrance exams. It was a new, but strong, theory, regarding Soulmarks and those who didn’t get them when everyone else did. A doctor in a rural part of the States theorized that kids with unstable or traumatic childhoods didn’t get a Mark at eighteen. Sometimes they got one later, some never got one at all. Gilbert thought that theory was more sound than others (like Freud’s weird obsession with the desire to have different kinds of genitalia and how that meant you would or wouldn’t get a Mark), especially in relation to what Anne had told him about those that left the Home with blank wrists.

It made him sad to get confirmation, to see that Anne didn’t have a Mark. People nowadays, especially feminists, believed Marks weren’t the end-all, be-all, but Gilbert still found a little comfort in the boxes on his skin.

Bringing his mind back to the task at hand, Gilbert set about making two of his favorite sandwiches, expertly moving around Elijah as he tried to swat Gilbert away from his prep, before returning to Anne. He had been a bit anxious the last week, wondering when she was going to show up, _if_ she was going to show up. He didn’t want to scare her away by asking for her number (she had to have a phone _now_ ) back at the coffee shop, but would’ve cursed himself if he never saw her again (again).

“Now, don’t ask me what’s in our secret sauce, it’s a Lacroix-Blythe… well, secret,” Gilbert said as he set down the plates and sat across from Anne, pleased to see her smiling.

“If I guess, will you tell me if I’m right?” Anne asked with a smirk, tossing a fry in her mouth.

“Maybe. I’ll have to ask Bash. He takes this sauce very seriously,” Gilbert grinned with a wink, reminding himself to look away from Anne so he could actually focus on his food.

“Do you do all the cooking?” Anne asked, gesturing towards the kitchen door, genuinely curious. She was still a bit nervous but was also remembering how easy it was to be around Gilbert Blythe.

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Bash does a lot, when he’s not doing the paperwork. Elijah, Bash’s step-son, is in charge of the kitchen, though. I do some, but cooking isn’t my forte and I’m not here enough to practice. Dellie is a little prodigy, though, so she might usurp us all one day.”

“Delphine?” Anne guessed hesitantly.

“Yeah!” Gilbert grinned, impressed that she remembered. He looked around and then pointed at a photo behind the counter. “That’s all of us when we first opened. Here, she’s seven now. Going on seventeen.”

Anne leaned forward to look at the phone he held out to her, unable to stop from smiling at the picture of Gilbert with a little girl in his lap, both sticking their tongues out at the camera. “Adorable.”

“Yeah,” Gilbert agreed sappily, looking at the picture before putting his phone down on the table. “She’s actually at a play date today or else you’d be able to meet her. Next time, definitely.”

As Gilbert turned back to his lunch, Anne blinked at him. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling as she tried to process that he was just assuming they’d do this again, once more at least. And that he wanted her to meet someone that obviously meant a lot to him. 

Before Anne could get back to her food to avoid responding, the kitchen door opened again. A man walked out and immediately mussed up Gilbert’s hair.

“Chop chop, Blythe, those cookies won’t bake themselves,” the man said, his eyes on the papers in his hand, as he passed their table.

As Gilbert rolled his eyes, Anne heard a squeak of rubber and the man was back, almost like he had done a u-turn in the middle of the cafe. The man came back, looking delighted, as he seemed to realize that Gilbert wasn’t eating alone.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, obviously kicking Gilbert’s foot under the table and then dodging Gilbert’s counter-strike.

Anne tensed a little at the stranger’s return, fully expecting some kind of leering look. She was surprised, however, to look up and see him grinning. He looked genuinely happy to see her while also obviously teasing Gilbert about something in the way he kept looking back at him and the way Gilbert looked unimpressed.

“Um. I’m Anne,” she said. She saw his eyes flick to her hair but they at least didn’t go to her wrist when she held out her hand, which she appreciated. She then watched as his eyebrows shot up and he spun around to look at Gilbert.

“Gilbert,” the man hissed, causing Gilbert’s ears to turn red.

“Bash, this is Anne. Anne, this is Bash,” Gilbert said quickly, his introduction prompting who she now realized was Gilbert’s brother (as he had used that term before) to turn back to her.

“So pleased to meet you,” Bash said, his accent coming out more, grabbing her hand as she went to take it back and shaking it earnestly. “I didn’t realize we were having such an important guest this afternoon.”

“Important?” Anne frowned, unsure if that was meant to be a joke.

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll bring out a slice of our famous cake once you’re done with your meal,” Bash insisted, slapping Gilbert’s hand away where he was tugging on Bash’s apron.

“Alright,” Anne said hesitantly, realizing she was in the presence of siblings in a way she hadn’t experienced before and also that she might be missing something here.

“We can’t finish if we can’t eat in peace,” Gilbert grit out pointedly, finally getting Bash to leave with a skip in his step. Gilbert looked at Anne and saw her frowning, prompting him to sigh. “Sorry about him—”

“Does he know me?” Anne asked, the idea suddenly coming to mind.

“Well, yeah. Of course he does. I had to tell him about you. And how you helped me through my time at the Home.”

“I helped you?”

“Of course you did,” Gilbert said, a bit incredulous at the look of surprise on Anne’s face. What he didn’t say was that he doubted he would have woken up with a Mark without her as a constant for those months. 

“Oh.”

The noise in the cafe around them became sort of a buzzing noise as Anne stared at Gilbert and his earnest eyes. Going in and out of different homes, learning to stay quiet and not be noticed, Anne had kind of assumed she was kind of a forgetful figure in everyone’s lives. To hear that she had made some kind of mark on Gilbert’s, so much so that his brother recognized her name, warmed her a little from the inside.

“Eat up, our cake is really good, if I do say so myself,” Gilbert said after a moment, giving her an out and a small smile.

* * *

_We tried to adapt one of the recipes and…_ [eyes emoji]

Anne looked down at her phone to see a text message. From Gilbert. No one really texted her besides some of her coworkers if they needed her to cover since she was usually willing. Now, to her surprise, it looked like Gilbert was going to start casually texting her… and sending her photos?

She looked at the text and scrolled up to the picture, which looked like a misshapen pancake that she could safely assume was not the intended result. Another photo popped up and this one was of a little girl, Delphine, throwing the pancake-thing away.

 _Learn from your mistakes!_ she typed out.

 _Then I should be a genius by now_ , he replied, making her smile.

Anne slipped her phone back into her pocket as a customer walked in, forcing her into customer service mode. She felt her phone buzz again as she made the customer their requested pumpkin spice concoction and it made her stomach twist, but in a pleasant way. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but having someone to chat with every now and then was something she wouldn’t mind having. 

_Whatre ur plans this weekend?_

_I tutor on Saturdays. I usually have a shift @ the shop on Sundays._

_Tutor??? Not math, surely_ [smirk emoji]

Anne rolled her eyes.

_No, she has a second one for math and science._

_And dont call you Shirley_ [laugh emoji]

_??_

_You havent seen Airplane?!_

Anne glanced at his use of emojis and took a minute to scroll through the list.

[shrug emoji]

_Can that be my excuse to hang out with you? To show you all the movies youve missed??_

His candor made her blush and she wished she could see his face to gage his sincerity. But she found herself answering with an _okay_.

Which was how she found herself cursing under her breath on Sunday as she looked down at the cold coffee seeping through her apron and the front of her shirt.

“Welcome to the club,” Melissa said in commiseration as she clocked in at the register next to Anne, on time for the shift change for once.

The bell above the door then rang and Anne felt her cheeks start to burn as Gilbert walked in, the smile on his face fading in a grimace as he took in her standing there behind the counter.

“Drinking problem?” Gilbert asked, which made Melissa laugh and Anne just stare at him.

Anne then huffed, pulling off the store hat, causing her hair to fall down over her shoulders (or cascade as Gilbert would put it) from where she had stuffed it under the cap. She went to the back of the shop, tugging off her apron to toss it into the laundry basket in the corner. She debated trying to mop up any of the liquid off her shirt but figured there was no going back from this.

As she grabbed her purse, book, and jacket from the lockers in the back, her coworker Melissa put her own stuff in a locker a few down.

“That your boyfriend?” she asked nosely.

“No,” Anne said, blushing.

“Right,” Melissa said, her eyes flicking to Anne’s wrist before letting the locker slam shut. She walked past Anne to go back to the front where she said something to Gilbert that Anne couldn’t hear.

When Anne walked back out, trying to keep the front of her jacket off the front of her shirt, Gilbert looked over at her as if Melissa had disappeared.

“We didn’t make solid plans but I’m guessing you want to head to your place, to change?” Gilbert asked.

“We can meet there, if you want…”

“Did you drive here?”

“Well, no…”

“I’ll drive, then,” he said as if it was obvious. “Bash says I listen to dad music but you won’t complain as much as he does, will you?”

Anne felt Melissa’s eyes on them as Gilbert grinned at her, going to hold the door open so she could exit before him and then leading her towards an small, older car he explained was Bash’s before he had to upgrade once Delphine arrived.

Which was how she found herself now leading Gilbert into her apartment.

Gilbert tried to keep his demeanor casual as he followed Anne into her home. It wasn’t quite what he expected, to be honest. It was a studio but she had cleverly separated the bedroom corner from the rest of the apartment with a large bookcase stuffed with books. He didn’t know how long she’d been here but for some reason he had been hoping she had more in the way of wall decorations. But the bookcase was very her, either way.

“Say hi to my roommate if you see her,” Anne said cryptidly as she shucked her jacket and tossed her stuff onto her little kitchen table, then grabbed something out of her closet and went into the bathroom before he could question her.

Gilbert looked around warily, a little impressed at how neat the place was, before a noise behind him made him spin around.

Beside a chair sat a silver striped cat that made another chirping sound that barely constituted a real meow.

“I thought you were hiding a person in your closet, Shirley,” Gilbert called and heard Anne snort from the bathroom.

“Gilbert, meet Cordelia. Cordelia, say hi to Gilbert,” Anne said seriously as she left the bathroom, now wearing a blue shirt that matched her eyes. She looked down at the cat who chirped dutifully.

“Are you a cat person?”

“I suppose. Can’t have a dog, even if I wanted to. But I needed to not live completely alone, so...” She shrugged, not looking at him as she absently poked at her one potted plant.

“If you still want to see that movie, I have it, so we could watch it here. If you wanted,” Gilbert suggested. He and Anne then looked out into her apartment and both realized she had no couch _and_ that her thriftstore TV was facing her bed.

Before Anne could answer, there was a crack of thunder followed by an almost immediate flash of lightning outside of her large window (the main aspect that drew her to this place besides the price).

“Well,” she said dryly as Gilbert snorted. 

“We don’t—”

“It’s alright. I can’t keep having you make references I don’t understand, can I?” Anne asked as she toed off her shoes and gestured for Gilbert to do the same. “Cordelia, be nice, we have a guest.”

Which was how Anne _now_ found herself curled up on her bed beside Gilbert Blythe, who also wasn’t sure how he ended up here, as she watched a blow up doll try to fly a plane or something.

“Am I going to be like Steve Rogers trying to catch up on things in the modern world?” Anne asked after pinching Gilbert in the side once she understood his previous quip from when he walked into the shop.

“You haven’t seen this but you’ve seen the second Captain America movie?” Gilbert asked incredulously.

“The student I tutor is a fan and snuck me her Disney plus password so I could watch them,” Anne said, amused. “She _was_ asking if I was born in 1918, though.”

“See, I could make a few different references right now but you won’t get them,” Gilbert sighed.

“Are you only going to show me things that will prove you’re funny?” Anne asked sarcastically.

“Well, I _am_ funny, no matter what Bash says,” Gilbert said firmly and Anne giggled. “At least Dellie agrees with me.”

“Are six-year-olds typically comedy experts?”

“This one is and I won’t hear a word against it.”

“Mhm,” Anne hummed as she pressed her lips together, giving him a patronizing nod.

“The longer you hang out with me, the more right you’ll realize I am,” Gilbert said, playing up his mock seriousness and enjoying the way Anne’s eyes lit up as she tried not to laugh at him. He wouldn’t call himself a movie buff by any means, and usually missed a lot of the newer ones because of his busy school schedule (and only kept up with the latest Disney contributions because of Delphine), but would accept any excuse to spend an hour and a half to two hours with Anne like this. 

Anne had to acknowledge that many things, like movies, that her peers had a fondness for were half due to pure nostalgia, so she missed out on a lot with her abnormal childhood. But finding herself relaxed, with the one piece of her childhood on which she could look back fondly (Gilbert), she couldn’t find it in herself to mind what they did together, silly movies or no.

* * *

“... hello?”

“Anne? It’s Diana! Minnie May’s sister?”

“Oh!” Anne glanced around her as she walked from class, gripping her phone and almost wondering if all this new social contact was part of a prank show or something. “Yes, I remember.”

“Great! I got your number from my mother, like I said, I hope you don’t mind. I just needed to get out for my lunch break, I couldn’t sit in that chair with another sad office lunch for the third time this week— Anyway, are you free? My office isn’t far from your campus and I figured I’d take a gamble and see if you want to meet me for lunch! We can go to Mary’s if you want!”

Anne stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, the person behind her having to sidestep around her. She couldn’t fathom why a woman like Diana Barry would want to spend time with her, but… what could it hurt? If she embarrassed herself in front of Diana, it’s not like she’d tell her mother to fire Anne or anything... she hoped. So, before she could overthink it, she agreed.

Instead of taking her usual bus back to her apartment, Anne went the opposite way to get to Mary’s. The cafe wasn’t as busy as it had been on the Saturday when she first came, but it looked like enough business for one o’clock on a Wednesday. She snuck a glance around the room to see if Gilbert was there but didn’t see him, or Diana, so she settled down in a corner table. She pulled out a worn notebook and thumbed at the corner without opening it yet. It had been a lucky find at the local thrift store with only one page written on but the rest completely blank and free. Anne had it in her bag at all times as her designated writing notebook even though she had yet to actually use it as such. She could only bring herself to write down her ideas, and maybe a few good sentences that came to mind, but didn’t feel brave enough to bring any of it together to form a story, even if she kept telling herself she would… someday.

Anne was jotting down a few words, inspired by the art on the wall beside her, when a water was set down in front of her. 

“Anne Shirley,” Bash greeted, grinning down at her. “I’m afraid your boy isn’t in today.”

“Oh, thats— Boy? No— I mean, I’m meeting a… friend,” Anne stammered.

“Even better! Any friend of Anne’s is a friend of ours. Flag me down when you’re ready, I’ll help you myself,” Bash said.

“You don’t have to trouble—”

“No trouble,” Bash insisted, giving her a wink before wandering off and leaving her blinking after him.

Footsteps hurried towards her and Diana was suddenly sliding in the seat across from Anne as Anne used the end of her pen to scratch her wrist.

“Hope you haven’t been waiting long,” she said, hanging her purse handle on the back of her chair. “Oh, is that for school? I hope I’m not interrupting your day?”

“No, nothing like that. Just some of my own ideas,” Anne shrugged, jumping slightly as Diana gasped.

“You write? Wonderful! No wonder you’re such a good literature tutor. Do you have anything published?”

“Oh, no, I’m not an actual writer—”

“If you write, you’re a writer,” Diana said firmly, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “Don’t be modest, not about your skills, Anne.”

Anne could only nod, at which Diana gave a pleased smile, before Bash came back over as Diana started to explain that she works for a company that does something with music therapy so she could use her music degree that she had gotten against her parent’s wishes.

* * *

The weather was getting colder and Anne had to start carrying a small bottle of lotion around for her dry hands (and for what she assumed was the beginning of a rash as her wrist was still itching and a bug bite would’ve healed by now). 

Anne sat down at the bus stop and started to dig through her purse. She swayed a little with the music playing through her headphones, from a playlist Diana had made for her, as she pulled out her lotion and tried to rub as much into her hands as she could. It made her almost drop her phone, though, when it buzzed and she saw a text come through.

_Star TREK or WARS, capt rogers??_

_Can we do the one with the elves instead?_

_????_

_And the ring?_

_LORD OF THE RINGS_

_I started one of the books once but it got left out in the rain_

_U left a book in the rain??_

_Don’t blaspheme._

_I didn’t say I left it in the rain, did I?_

_One of the other girls did._

[frown emoji]

_But ya lets do it. Extended, all the way._

Anne wasn’t sure what that meant but found herself smiling at her phone anyway. She couldn’t say she loved every movie Gilbert had shown her, and wasn’t sure if she could sit through a three hour movie, if that’s what he meant. But their movie nights often ended with them talking about literally anything else and she wouldn’t trade that for the world (or a shorter movie).

_Thats what u are_

_What?_

_An elf. Living in a palace in the trees._

_Is that a compliment?_

_Ofc._

_Idk if Dellie is too young but can she join for lotr? I can pick up again and we can go to my house_

_The lacroix/blythe homestead_ [apple emoji]

Feeling her stomach flutter, Anne agreed.

* * *

Anne felt nauseous as she looked out the window of Gilbert’s car, the guitar of the song playing from his aux cord setup thrumming deeply in a way that filled her senses and made her even more hyper-focused on the fact that she recognized where she was. Only when Gilbert made an unfamiliar turn could she take a deep breath and tear her eyes away from the trees flying by as they drove.

“How long have you lived here?” Anne murmured as a modest farmhouse came into view.

“Technically this house has been in my family for a few generations,” Gilbert informed her. “I spent a lot of time in Alberta growing up, actually. And this place stayed empty for a while… until I suggested we move back when I was eighteen.”

Anne nodded at the implications as he parked. After getting out of his car, Anne couldn’t help but stop and take a deep breath. The smell of trees and earth and burning wood was both achingly comforting and sickening familiar. She didn’t have it in her to say any of this out loud and tried to focus back in on Gilbert rambling about Delphine’s leaf piles.

The first thing Anne heard when she walked into the house was the happy sound of a giggling child. She was used to children being loud, both in her childhood and at her customer service job, but walking into a home like this was not something she was accustomed to. Gilbert’s home was obviously older but seemed well taken care of. It wasn’t as obsessively clean as the Barry mansion (Anne was always worried she would dirty the place up too much just by existing) but was lived in and homey. It was obvious the home was lived in by multiple people, including a child. But, instead of a burden under their feet, Anne could tell that child was wanted without even needing to meet her.

Delphine’s toys were scattered around, some in their designated bins and some not. There was also art obviously done by child finger in a few select places on the wall, surrounded by countless photographs. She could see Mary in most, Delphine in almost all, plus a few images of whom Anne could tell was younger Gilbert. The types of frames varied, some looking a bit more professionally done than others, but Anne could see that everything on the wall was hung with pride. Not that they were proud of their money or of things they had for the sake of having. This family was just proud of each other.

“Uncle Gilby! Daddy made me a hobbit!”

Anne turned away from the walls to see a little girl run into the room and straight into Gilbert’s arms that were ready for impact as soon. She had a dark green towel tied around her neck as a cape and a graham cracker in her hand.

“Is that lembas bread?” Gilbert asked, settling the girl against his hip.

“What’s ‘at,” she asked through a mouthful of cracker.

“I guess you’ll find out,” Gilbert said mysteriously before turning to Anne. “Dellie, this is my friend Anne. Anne, this is my niece Delphine.”

Delphine started to say something but Gilbert cleared his throat pointedly, making her dramatically swallow her food before saying, “Nice meeting you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Anne said with a smile, the atmosphere of the home easing the tension in her shoulders. “I like your cape.”

“I’m a hobbit!”

“You’re short enough to be one,” Gilbert teased.

“Your feet are hairy enough to be one, Blythe,” Bash called from the kitchen and Gilbert shook his head.

“Are you a hobbit?” Delphine asked Anne, leaning out of Gilbert’s arms and making him have to catch her so she didn’t fall.

“She’s an elf,” Gilbert said as Delphine slithered out of his arms.

“Are hobbits and elfs friends?” Delphine asked as she grabbed Anne’s hand and started to lead her towards the living room.

“I don’t see why not,” Anne said, enjoying Delphine’s confidence.

“Good,” the little girl said decisively. “You can sit by me.”

“Ask Anne where _she_ wants to sit, Dellie,” Gilbert urged as he followed them.

“Miss Anne, will you please sit by me?” Delphine asked, looking up at Anne and sticking out her lower lip.

Gilbert gave a sigh of resignation as Anne bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“I would love to,” Anne said as Delphine cheered and started swinging their clasped hands. 

“Popcorn’s ready,” Bash yelled from the kitchen.

Delphine gasped and ran out of the room, leaving Anne and Gilbert alone in the living room after settling on the couch, a Delphine-sized spot left open between them.

“She seems happy,” Anne whispered without meaning to, her eyes on the doorway Delphine had run through.

Gilbert looked over at Anne, her face obscured by her waves of hair so he couldn’t get as good of a read on her. 

“We try,” he said modestly, watching as Anne turned to meet his eye.

“That’s more than most do, Gil,” she whispered with a bittersweet smile. She had just met the little girl but walking into her life and seeing just… a normal little girl in this town, with her slightly abnormal family… It comforted Anne more than any nice song or heartwarming movie ever could.

* * *

“Do you get a Christmas break like I do?” Minnie May asked as she slumped back into her chair, holding her book up so the giant blue eyes of a certain doctor stared at Anne from across the table.

“My fall semester just finished and I get a break until next month,” Anne said as she watched Minnie May scribble something in the margins, trying to make it look like she had done enough annotations to please both Anne and her teacher.

Minnie May grumbled, grabbing a highlighter to use on a few lines to add a bit of color.

“Do you have any holiday plans, Anne?” Diana asked as she stood in the doorway with a cheese stick in her hand. 

It had only been a few months since Anne had formally met Diana Barry but they had spent a lot more time with each other than Anne had ever expected. She didn’t want to say it aloud but she felt they were on their way to becoming friends. The question still made her a little self-conscious as she answered, “I sometimes like to volunteer on Christmas Day, if there are any openings…”

“You can see what Mary’s is doing,” Diana suggested happily. “They usually do something for charity this time of year. We’ve spent the last few Christmases out of town, to visit our aunt, so I’m not sure what exactly they put together last year. But you’re a regular now, you should ask!”

“I will,” Anne assured. “That sounds like a great idea…”

When Diana left with an eye roll after her mother called her upstairs, and Minnie May still hiding behind the billboard, Anne slipped her phone out of her pocket.

_My friend says Mary’s does something for Christmas? That I can volunteer for?_

[upside down smile emoji]

_Yes!_

_were planning on having a free breakfast xmas morning, if you arent busy_

_I’d love to help, if I can_

_Done and done_ , Gilbert texted before sending a picture of a sign-up list that now had her name on the bottom.

 _Perfect_ , Anne replied. She set her phone down and flicked through her tutoring checklist before her phone buzzed harshly against the table.

Minnie May snickered but refrained from commenting as Anne snatched her phone up to open her messages.

_… whatre u doing for xmas lunch/dinner?_

_Cordelia likes when I make us a ham._

_…_

_… come to our dinner_

_Gilbert, I can’t crash your family dinner_ , Anne responded with a frown.

_Nope. You’re coming to our dinner. I’ve told Delphine and now you can’t break her little heart_ , he said, meaning business with full sentences.

Anne sighed and started to bite the inside of her cheek.

_Playing dirty, Blythe._

_yup_

_Fine._

_No need to bring anything, shirley, just urself and a can-do attitude_ [dance emoji]

* * *

Anne was in the middle of unattractively trying to pull her tights up, dark green dress (a lucky thrift shop find) bunched around her waist, when someone knocked on the door.

Muttering a curse, Anne wiggled to get her dress to fall back down, using the mirror on her bathroom door to make sure it wasn’t tucked into the back of her tights. She wasn’t sure who would be knocking on her door so early on Christmas Day but hoped it wasn’t her creepy neighbor. When she opened it, keeping the chain on, she found Gilbert on the other side in an ugly sweater.

“You said you’d text when you were here,” Anne said, closing the door to unchain it before opening it again. She then saw the bag in his hand. “And you said no gifts!”

“Well this isn’t for you, Shirley, now is it?” he teased. Gilbert craned his head to look behind Anne into her apartment. “May I speak with your roommate, please?”

Anne huffed as she stood aside to let him in. Cordelia chose the perfect moment to hop up on her armchair, already purring as Gilbert made a beeline towards her.

“Merry Christmas, Cordelia,” Gilbert said politely, reaching into the little gift bag he had to pull out a catnip toy and setting it carefully in front of her. He grinned as the cat hesitantly sniffed it before batting it to the ground and flying after it.

“Are you drugging my cat?”

“Nothing says ‘Christmas spirit’ like a little inebriation!”

Anne rolled her eyes, turning her back on Gilbert to hide her smile. She pulled on her coat after stuffing her feet into her boots, and picked up a small bag and a container from her kitchen table.

“No gifts, eh?” Gilbert raised an eyebrow as he joined her near her front door.

“It’s just cookies,” Anne defended. “I can’t show up at your home empty-handed, even if I can’t afford real presents.”

“What about that?” he asked, pointing to the bag.

“It’s for Delphine,” Anne mumbled, not meeting his eye. “It’s not much… I just couldn’t bring myself to not have something just for her… not on Christmas…”

“Okay,” Gilbert said softly as Anne bit her lip and kept her eyes on the box in her hand. “Let’s head out, the cafe opens in an hour.”

Anne couldn’t remember ever having a more enjoyable Christmas before in her life and the day was only half over. Mary’s was open for a few hours Christmas Day for a large brunch for anyone that needed it. Anne thought Bash had outdone himself but Gilbert assured her that this was how it usually was. The cafe itself was decked out as if it was a winter wonderland, but the decor couldn’t hold a candle to the wonderful smells that filled the place. Anne had done a little to help the day before but somehow Bash, Gilbert, Elijah, and Bash’s mom Hazel had made enough food to feed an army. Anne was sure there would be plenty of leftovers but was proven wrong by the time they left. Anne also found herself talking more than she had in the last twelve months combined as she flitted around, trying to be helpful, and ended up chatting with all the various people who either had no one to spend the day with, nowhere to go, or no means to have such a meal themselves. 

By the time their group made it back to the Lacroix/Blythe house, Anne was physically exhausted but mentally buzzing. She tried to offer her services to Hazel as she finished up their own Christmas meal but was shooed out promptly.

“Best leave her to it,” Bash said out of the side of his mouth, steering Anne to the living room.

Anne tugged at the sleeve of her dress as she sat down in the only free space left, beside Gilbert.

“You think you’ll volunteer with us again next year?” Gilbert asked, slumped against the side of the couch, ugly Christmas sweater enveloping his frame.

“Of course,” Anne said earnestly and without thinking. She then blushed at the implication that this, any of this where she was somehow still involved in their lives, would be happening again a year from now.

“Great,” Gilbert grinned, nudging her knee with his before blindly reaching over with one arm to grab Delphine away from the Christmas tree.

“I wasn’t peeking,” Delphine whined, flopping herself into Gilbert’s lap.

“Sure you weren’t. I think you can wait until after dinner for presents, just like you have every year so far,” Gilbert said, poking her side and causing her to giggle before remembering she was trying to be somber.

“I don’t think I’ll last that long, Uncle Gilby,” Delphine said dramatically, sticking her lower lip out in a pout.

“I think you can handle it,” Gilbert said knowingly.

Anne watched as Delphine rolled off Gilbert and the couch and decided to go pester her grandmother for bits of food instead.

“Who needs a puppy when you have a seven-year-old,” Gilbert muttered, shaking his head.

“I think she’s cute,” Anne said, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and smiling at the sounds of Delphine weaving a story for whoever was listening.

“She’s something,” Gilbert said, obviously joking but unable to sound less than sincere when talking up his niece. He glanced around the room to see that Bash and Elijah were distracted by arguing over the game they found on the television. Gilbert then stood to reach for something hidden behind the tree and sat back down, hiding it under his arm. “So—”

“What’re you hiding?” Anne frowned.

“Something that’s not a Christmas gift,” Gilbert said quickly, causing Anne’s eyes to narrow at him. “It’s not a gift because it’s not wrapped and you’re not opening it during designated gift-opening hours.”

“Gilbert—”

“I just saw it… and thought of you. It’s nothing really,” Gilbert muttered before giving in to Anne’s look and suddenly a book was in her lap.

“What…”

“You probably have a newer copy,” Gilbert shrugged. “It’s not like this is a special edition or anything. I just thought it looked nice. And this… this was what you were trying to read… when we met. If I’m remembering correctly…"

Anne tore her eyes away from Gilbert and looked down. Staring up at her was a vintage copy of _Jane Eyre_ , embossed flowers in fading green hues encircling the cover. She felt compelled to open the book and thumb through the pages. They were intact, unlike the copy she had had in the attic way back when, but there were also notes filling the margins not dissimilar to the annotations Minnie May had been working on during their last session before break. The few that caught her eye, however, seemingly had meaning and purpose and heart. Whoever owned this book before her adored it as much as she did. 

The book fell open to reveal the inside of the front cover. In the corner someone had inscribed a note to its former recipient: “With love (1899)”.

“It’s from a used bookstore so there’s no gift receipt,” Gilbert muttered.

Anne laughed wetly, suddenly realizing there were tears in her eyes. She tried to wipe them furtively before finally raising her head to meet Gilbert’s eyes.

“Thank you, Gilbert,” Anne whispered, unable to express herself any more in that moment and just reached out to grip his hand in hers.

“No need, it’s not a gift, remember?” he said lightly and turned his hand so he could hold hers properly.

No more could be said as Hazel took that moment to announce that the food was ready. Anne stood, trying to take a deep breath and not look like she had just been crying, and Gilbert snuck the book from her to slide it into her coat pocket by the front door.

Anne couldn’t remember if she had ever spent Christmas with the same people twice (due to her revolving door of foster homes and the constant cast change back at the Home), but found herself hoping she would receive another invitation to this table next year. Not only was the food to die for, in her expert opinion, but the company was more than she could have ever imagined.

Christmas with a child, especially one as precocious as Delphine, was never going to be dull. Bash had to have been an angel in his previous life, Anne decided, because she wasn’t sure she had ever met anyone nicer and more welcoming (and so quick to make everyone laugh). Hazel wasn’t much of a talker but her son managed to get her to tell a few stories of back home that had Anne enthralled. Even Elijah, who she had spent some time with before on a few of her cafe visits, snuck in a few tales of the odd jobs he had before settling down in the cafe kitchen.

And Gilbert.

Gilbert had to stop himself from grinning all throughout Christmas dinner whenever he looked over and saw Anne beside him, looking so happy to be there. And Anne had to try to force herself not to blush whenever she was caught by Bash, or almost caught by Gilbert, staring at this boy from her childhood whenever he was looking the other way.

Once they were stuffed and couldn’t possibly eat anymore (until pie was served, at least), their group went back to the living room to appease the excited demands of the youngest.

Presents were passed around (Anne could only attempt to thank Hazel for her kind gift of classic Trinidadian treats) and Delphine was definitely the one with the biggest pile of wrapping paper that almost towered over her little form.

“Was this yours, Anne?” Gilbert asked, the sky darkening outside as he noticed one more item beneath the tree and held up the little unmarked bag she had brought over.

With pink cheeks, Anne glanced over at Delphine who was sufficiently distracted by a doll gifted to her by her brother.

“It’s really not much,” Anne started but couldn’t stop Gilbert from getting Delphine’s attention and gesturing her to come over to where he and Anne were sitting.

“Miss Anne got you a present, what do you say?” Gilbert prompted as Delphine plopped herself down on his knees.

“Thank you,” Delphine said with a genuine smile that Anne couldn’t help but return.

“It’s just a little something I made,” Anne warned before reaching into the bag and pulling out a scroll of paper. She glanced at Gilbert but knew it wouldn’t look familiar to him. This one wouldn’t, anyway, since she now had access to proper supplies to dress it up more for a seven-year-old recipient.

Delphine looked intrigued as she took the papers wrapped in a shiny purple ribbon. She was surprisingly careful as she untied the bow and unrolled the scroll to see the title page. Her little eyebrows furrowed (not unlike Gilbert, funnily enough) then her eyes widened as she read the title of the story in her hands.

“‘The Life and Adventures of Princess Delphine’,” Gilbert read over her shoulder before looking to Anne. “Did you write this?”

“I’m in the story?!” Delphine shouted.

“Inside voices, Dellie,” Bash said from the other side of the room.

“Daddy, daddy, it’s me!” Delphine scrambled off Gilbert’s lap and jumped into her father’s, waving the papers in his face until he had to grab her hands to avoid getting a papercut on his nose.

“I was going to start Harry Potter with her but I think this is all she’ll talk about for a while,” Gilbert said, lightly touching Anne’s knee to draw her worried look back to him. “That’s a great present, Anne.”

“You haven’t even read it yet,” Anne mumbled as Delphine and Bash fawned over the gift by the television.

“Don’t need to,” Gilbert shrugged, eyes never leaving hers. “I know it’s great.”

“I haven’t actually written something like that in so long,” Anne murmured, nervously rubbing at her wrist over her sleeve.

“I hope you continue, though,” Gilbert whispered, realizing his hand was still touching her knee but also that she made no move to shift away from him.

“Do you still want your dedication?” Anne asked, her mouth twitching into a smile.

“I’ll take anything,” he said, a touch too honestly.

“Uncle Gilby, will you read it to me? As my bedtime story?” Delphine asked beseechingly.

“What about Miss Anne—”

“Oh, no, no,” Anne said quickly, shaking her head. “You go ahead. I couldn’t. I’ve heard you do the voices best, anyway.”

Gilbert huffed but gave in, following Delphine upstairs to get ready for bed, wondering if this story was good enough to make her do this of her own accord if the story was her reward.

Anne found herself still comfortable with the rest of Gilbert’s family, all talking quietly as the night settled down and they shared tiny cups of port that Bash insisted were a family tradition for those legally able.

After a while, Gilbert could be heard coming back down the stairs, alone so obviously successful in his bedtime mission. Anne looked over once he walked in, a smile still on her face from something Bash had said, but found Gilbert looking troubled.

“Gil?”

Gilbert came back to sit beside her but wasn’t as loose as he had been before leaving the room. Eyebrows drawn together, Gilbert frowned.

“Did you do a lot of research for that story?” Gilbert asked Anne as the rest of the family made their excuses to leave the room, the long day taking its toll.

“No,” Anne said, confused. “It’s just children's fantasy…"

“But you based some of it off our orchard, clearly,” Gilbert said. “But some of it… It sounded so familiar…”

“I used the Barry pond as a landmark…”

“But you also used parts of Avonlea that haven’t been used by the public for years. Your ‘White Way of Delight’? If that’s referring to what I think it is, that road hasn’t been used since before Dellie was born,” Gilbert said carefully. He wasn’t sure why those parts of the story had stood out, or why it bothered him so much, but he realized this was something more by the way his words made Anne’s face lose all color. “... Anne?”

Anne looked down at her hands, absently twisting at the hem of her dress, and let some of her hair fall to obscure her face. She felt her stomach clench and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to calm herself down.

“Have you been to Avonlea before?” Gilbert slowly asked.

Anne stayed silent, trying not to feel like she had been caught in a lie by the matron because she knew Gilbert wasn’t like that. Finally, Anne just sighed.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? At the home—”

“I didn’t know you lived here until you first had me over,” Anne mumbled.

“After that, then.”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“I— Well, it… I guess it doesn’t,” Gilbert stumbled. “I just… When was this? Would we have met?”

“I wasn’t here long. You might have even been in high school by then, or still away, I guess,” Anne shrugged. She chewed on her lip and then decided just to say it. “My last foster home. I was here for a few months before they realized I was living with two siblings—”

“The Cuthberts,” Gilbert realized.

Anne’s head shot up as she frowned. “You know them?”

“Anne, they’re my neighbors,” Gilbert said, gesturing vaguely to the right. “They keep to themselves, but… they’ve always been there. Longer than the Blythes, I think.”

Anne shrugged. “It’ll be ten years this spring,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant and not like she had really kept count. “A long time ago, really.”

Gilbert opened his mouth but closed it just as quickly. He looked suddenly thoughtful as his eyes wandered in the direction he had pointed before. 

“What?” Anne asked warily when he looked like he wanted to say something.

Gilbert shook his head, blinking back towards Anne. “Nothing,” he said. “Just… thanks for telling me.”

Anne shrugged again.

“And it really was a beautiful story,” Gilbert added, smiling slowly as a blush erupted on Anne’s cheeks. “You have your first fan up there.”

“I’m just glad she likes it,” Anne murmured humbly, looking back at her hands, feeling Gilbert’s eyes still on her.

* * *

“And I swear you’ve replaced Minnie May with another child because Aunt Jo gave her a book for Christmas and she actually looked interested in it,” Diana said, her tone suggesting hell had frozen over.

“It’s hardly my doing. I just told her that those authors she’s forced to read for school aren’t as stuffy as she thinks they are,” Anne shrugged off. “I don’t think pointing out dick jokes in Shakespeare will make an english major out of her.”

Anne bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a smile as Diana burst out laughing while they walked, bundled up for the weather, down the main square not far from her school.

She kept being caught off guard whenever Diana invited her to hang out but had to wonder if she needed to start reciprocating the invitations so Diana wouldn’t think she didn’t enjoy their outings. Anne was about to suggest they see the movie Gilbert had told her she might be interested in when a door burst open just as they walked past.

“Anne!”

Anne jumped, realizing they had reached Mary’s, and spun to look at Bash who had been the one to yell her name.

“Are you—”

“Blythe has something to tell you,” Bash interrupted and then suddenly pushed Gilbert out the door before slamming it shut behind him. Anne could have sworn she heard the door lock even though they had a cafe full of patrons.

“Gilbert?”

Gilbert, eyes wide in panic, looked from Anne to Diana.

“Oh. Hey, Diana.”

“Hey,” Diana said, looking both confused and amused. She glanced at Anne and back. “You know Anne?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” he said distractedly. “We go way back.”

“Well, she’s my best friend now, so don’t get any ideas,” Diana teased, but amusement trumping confusion as she noticed that Gilbert seemed to have forgotten she was there already.

“Um,” Gilbert started, staring at Anne who looked a bit worried.

“Is everything okay, Gil?” Anne asked, not noticing the quirk of Diana’s eyebrow at the nickname.

“Can we talk?” Gilbert asked, anxiously rubbing at his wrist.

Anne opened her mouth but Diana spoke first.

“I’ll meet you at the shop, okay?” Diana said, touching Anne’s arm and then disappearing down the street before Anne could answer.

“Is Dellie alright?” Anne asked once they were alone, not many other people out and about this far into December.

“What? Oh, no, everyone’s fine,” Gilbert said hurriedly, wrapping his arms around himself since he has been thrown out without his coat.

“Okay…” Anne said slowly.

Gilbert looked away nervously before sighing through his nose.

“Don’t hate me, okay? I didn’t… I didn’t tell you before so you wouldn’t get your hopes up but I also wasn’t going to tell you if it went poorly—”

“Gilbert…”

“We’re invited over to Green Gables for New Year’s lunch,” Gilbert said simply. “Well, _you_ were, after I called, but I thought you might want some support.”

Anne looked so stricken that Gilbert thought he had just made the biggest mistake of his life, but knew it was too late to take his words back now.

Gilbert could do nothing but stay silent as he stood in the cold, in front of his cafe, staring at Anne staring at him. Her eyes were so wide they took up most of her pale face, her freckles standing out like constellations. She didn’t look like she was breathing.

“You called them?” Anne whispered, her voice sounding rough. There were a million things running through her mind but also nothing at all… She suddenly felt so, so cold despite having worn one more layer than usual as a precaution since she had known her and Diana would be spending part of their day outside. She felt she might crack like thin ice on a lake if she moved.

“I did,” Gilbert whispered back, shoulders dropping like a limp marionette. “I’m sorry, Anne. I know I overstepped. I… I didn’t try to speak for you, I told Marilla I was calling on my own—”

“You told them to invite me?” Anne croaked, beginning to feel like she was watching herself from above, unattached and distant

“No,” Gilbert said quickly, shaking his head. “She— Marilla asked. Insisted.”

“It was her idea?”

“All I said was that I knew you. And she said she wanted you to visit. If you wanted.”

Gilbert could only watch as Anne’s eyes drifted away, a look of blank confusion spreading over her face. He flinched, just stopping himself in time from reaching out to her as she took a step back.

“I can’t— I can’t think—” Anne gasped before abruptly turning in the direction Diana had gone minutes before.

Gilbert felt sick as he watched her walk away from him, barely feeling the bloom of warm air against his back as the door opened behind him and he was tugged inside by Elijah.

* * *

A few days later, on New Year’s Eve, Gilbert heard the cafe door open from the kitchen.

“Sorry, we’re closing early for the holiday,” Gilbert called.

When he didn’t get a response, he set down the marker he was using to label food and walked backwards out of the swinging door. He turned, ready to apologize again to whatever customer couldn’t read a sign, but froze.

Anne stood by the front of the empty cafe, arms crossed tightly against her chest, not looking at him.

Before Gilbert could speak, she said, “I’ll need a ride.”

“What?” Gilbert asked dumbly.

“Tomorrow,” Anne huffed, eyes on the floor. “You said you were going. And it’s too far from the bus stop.”

Gilbert just nodded, Anne looking at him from beneath her eyelashes to catch his answer. She hesitated but then turned around and left just as quickly as she had arrived.

* * *

Anne was silent as she slipped into Gilbert’s car the next day, face pale and looking like she hadn’t gotten much sleep. She didn’t know what to say to him but also didn’t want to open her mouth for fear of throwing up… again.

She crossed her arms tightly against her chest, her shoulders up by her ears as she tried to both conserve her body heat and hide her shaking hands.

“Happy New Year,” Gilbert said, glancing over to make sure she was buckled in before looking in his mirrors and driving away from the curb. He didn’t know if Anne only wanted him here for a ride and as a barrier since he was the only one, he assumed, that knew what this New Year’s lunch really was. He hoped she wanted him there just to want him there but also knew, even if he didn’t want to admit it, that he may have done something unforgivable. Anne was hard to read when she was so closed off and his unanswered texts just made him assume the worst.

“You too,” Anne mumbled to his surprise before reaching over to turn on the radio, needing some kind of background noise as she watched them drive further into the Avonlea farmlands.

Anne focused on her breathing, in through her nose and out through her mouth, while keeping her eyes on a stationary point off in the distance. She didn’t want to be rude and refuse any of the food Marilla probably worked hard on, but Anne also didn’t know if she could keep anything down.

Even when she went to Gilbert’s home some months ago and found herself closer to Green Gables than she had been since she was thirteen, Anne never thought of seeing the Cuthberts again. They were almost some kind of figment of her imagination, abstract ideas that barely seemed tangible. She may have built the place up in her head since she was rather young when she left, but Green Gables was the first and last place she had been carted to and from as a minor at which she had actually wanted to stay (not that anyone had asked her). Her first few weeks on the farm had been rocky, but she had just started to get comfortable when the rug was pulled out from under her again. Anne hadn’t let herself think of the Cuthberts too often, her wounds had enough salt in them, but they still were held separate from the other foster parents she had… separate and locked away. It didn’t seem real that she was suddenly going to see them again, and at their request no less. She half expected to receive some kind of message saying they changed their minds and to turn around now. But Gilbert kept driving and didn’t stop.

Anne’s stomach rolled dangerously as Gilbert made the last turn and started up the gravel driveway. The farmhouse stood stark against the darkening clouds that seemed to match Anne’s feelings. Ten years was a long time but the place somehow looked like it hadn’t changed. Anne suddenly felt like a scared thirteen-year-old again, unsure what she would face behind those doors.

“You okay?” Gilbert asked as he turned off his car and the music died.

“I don’t know,” Anne said honestly, gripping her seatbelt as she stared at the kitchen door through the car windshield.

“That’s fine,” Gilbert said and Anne looked at him, her obvious anxiety making her look younger and more like the Anne he first met in a dingy attic.

Anne then forced herself to throw her seatbelt off, pettily not caring that the latch hit Gilbert’s window as it flew back into place, and shoved her way out of the car before she could stop herself.

Her boots crunched in the snow and she wiggled her toes in her thick socks. She was dressed properly for the weather in her favorite jacket but also felt like it wasn’t enough. The smell of burning wood and hazy smoke and cold air filled her nostrils where her nose peeked out from her scarf and that helped more than anything. It was a gray day, not befitting the holiday, but people like the Cuthberts were experts in keeping their homes warm and dry, which is what Anne needed.

Anne followed Gilbert up to the front door, which Anne couldn’t remember ever using, and knocked. The door opened quicker than expected, making both guests assume someone had been waiting right behind it.

Anne wasn’t conscious of the fact that she had kind of ducked into her scarf, only her wide blue eyes peering over. 

Marilla, who had opened the door, just stood there. Her hair was more gray than Anne had remembered but her wardrobe hadn’t changed in the slightest. She had a pair of glasses in her hand, which may have been new, but Anne knew for a fact that the apron she had wrapped around her waist was exactly the same. As far as her demeanor went, Anne hazarded that Marilla might feel just as nervous as she did.

“Thank you for having… us, Ms. Cuthbert,” Gilbert said politely, drawing Marilla’s attention from where she was trying to look at Anne, who stood slightly behind him, without staring.

“You’re grown now, Gilbert, call me Marilla. And come in from the cold, hopefully the snow holds off until this evening,” Marilla said, ushering them in and fussing a bit as they took off their scarves and coats. She turned and actually stopped at the sight of Anne’s hair, now untucked from her scarf and loose over her shoulders. Marilla then directed them to the living room where she had set out some crackers arranged in such a pattern that they hinted at the effort it took to plate them.

Matthew then made an appearance, stopping in the doorway as if he was surprised to find more than just his sister in his home.

Anne’s eyes tracked Matthew’s hand as he fidgeted with his tie and she caught a glimpse of a faded Mark on his wrist. At thirteen, Anne had just created fanciful stories in her head about tragic romances when she first noticed that both Cuthberts had faded Marks. It was a detail she had forgotten but it made her feel a little bit better. Faded Marks weren’t as rare as no Mark at all, but, like her empty wrist, only a few theories existed to explain why they happen. Either way, Anne was reassured that no one here would bother her over her freckled arm as she was sure they had had their fill of that over the years.

Glancing back up, Anne found both Matthew and Marilla looking at her, Gilbert seemingly forgotten.

Both siblings appeared unsure of themselves, uncharacteristic for Marilla and just dialed up a notch for introvert Matthew. But, as Anne caught their gaze, she thought they also looked hesitantly pleased, if reservedly so.

“Anne,” Marilla finally said, as if realizing Anne wasn’t going to speak first. She spoke with a hesitant smile, her tone a far cry from the way she’d call it in exasperation when her young self tracked dirt through the kitchen. “It’s so good to see you.”

Anne’s eyes jumped from Marilla to Matthew whose mouth quirked in agreement.

“It’s good to see you too,” Anne found herself saying, speaking softer than she ever had before in that worn but cared-for farmhouse.

* * *

The ride back to Anne’s apartment was a quiet one. Gilbert felt even putting on music, no matter how low-key, would break some kind of spell, so his radio stayed off. He kept his eyes on the road as best he could, only occasionally sneaking a glance towards where Anne was leaning her head against the window. It was hard for him to tell if her eyes were open or not in the dark.

When Gilbert pulled up in front of her apartment building, Anne didn’t immediately get out of the car, so he just turned it off.

“I understand if you’re still upset with me,” Gilbert started, unable to take the silence any longer.

“I’m not upset,” Anne sighed, tucking some hair behind her ear to get it out of her face as she turned to face him.

“You should be—”

“Don’t tell me how to feel, Gilbert,” Anne said.

“Sorry.”

“I mean it. I’m not upset with you. Part of me was, at first. It had never occurred to me to reach out to them, and you just… did it. But… It never occurred to me to contact them because it never occurred to me to want to see them because... it never occurred to me that they would want to see _me_. But Marilla made a choice to invite me for dinner. And I made the choice to accept. You didn’t force anyone’s hand. I don’t know if I would ever speak to you again if you had, but… you just started something that I wouldn’t have been brave enough to ever do,” Anne said, barely speaking above a whisper in the dark space of the car.

“I think watching you walk into that house was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen,” Gilbert said honestly.

“I didn’t feel very brave,” Anne mumbled.

“But you did it anyway,” Gilbert said, giving Anne a kind smile that finally made her stomach settle from how it had been rolling all night. He held out his hand, light from the closest streetlight shining like a spotlight on his Mark.

Without thinking about it, Anne slid her hand in his.

* * *

“What happened to your arm?” Diana gasped as she came up to Anne at the counter.

“It’s nothing,” Anne brushed off, reaching to pick at the bandage on her wrist but forcing herself not to. “I scratched myself in my sleep, I think, and woke up to it bleeding.”

“Oh no,” Diana fussed. “Do you think it’s an allergic reaction to something? Minnie May broke out into hives once after eating pistachios and my mother almost had a panic attack.”

“I really think it’s just winter. I’ve been washing my hands so much and my skin is so dry…”

“Well then good thing I’m here to steal you away once your shift ends in… three minutes! We can go back to mine and I can let you borrow some of this incredible lotion my aunt sent me from Paris. And my roommate Ruby should be there so you two can finally meet! She spends so much time at her boyfriend’s, I’m surprised she remembers to pay her half of the rent!”

Before Anne could answer, Diana was giving Melissa, who just walked in, her best Mrs. Barry look of polite expectation, which made Melissa actually hurry up for once so Anne was able to clock out. As Anne did so, she didn’t notice Diana glancing at her own Mark, a thin music note, in contemplation.

Anne didn’t think she’d stop being impressed by Diana’s apartment, no matter how many times she visited. It looked like something out of a magazine but still felt more comfortable than the Barry mansion that made you feel like you weren’t allowed to sit anywhere.

Diana’s roommate was not quite what she was expecting, but she was nice and seemed to like Anne well enough, which was more she could say for most of the others of her gender she’d spent time with in her teens.

“I love your hair,” Ruby gushed. “I used to have it that long but my mom convinced me to cut it to look more professional but my boss’s is longer than yours so I shouldn’t have listened to her!”

“I’ve been growing it out for a while,” Anne said, leaving out the part about her last major haircut not being of her own volition.

“It just looks so nice against your gray coat,” Ruby said. From anyone else, Anne would automatically assume she was making fun of her, but, despite just meeting her, Anne wasn’t sure if Ruby was capable of the poker face needed to be passive aggressive on purpose.

“Are you going back to Moody’s later?” Diana asked, silently holding up a sleeve of cookies she had pulled out to gage Anne’s reaction as she unwound her scarf.

Anne nodded before looking back at Ruby as she sighed dramatically.

“No, I need to sleep in my own bed tonight. Hey! Let’s have a girls night!”

“As long as one of you paints my right hand,” Diana said breezily, moving to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of wine.

Both women turned to Anne expectantly and she found herself nodding. She didn’t think she had ever had a “girl’s night” before but they seemed fun in some of the 80’s movies Gilbert had shown her (minus the poisoning, she assumed).

“Sounds fun,” Anne said, a surprised smile erupting as the other two cheered. Anne let herself be pulled towards the living room, the commotion distracting her from her tingling wrist.

* * *

Gilbert had not _not_ been aware of the fact that he often sat in Anne’s bed with her while they watched movies, their plans bringing them there without discussion anymore, but this time, their first movie night since New Year’s, felt different.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” Gilbert found himself saying during a lull in the movie, a compulsion to be extra honest with her rising from deep within him.

“You wouldn’t shut up about this one,” Anne huffed, eyes on the screen, poking her leg out from under the quilt thrown over her lap to even out the temperature.

“I just thought—”

“I know, Gil,” Anne whispered. She didn’t look away from the movie but did rest her hand on his leg for a moment before taking it back. 

Anne and Gilbert remained silent, trying to focus on what was happening on the screen. The slight tension in the room didn’t build but Gilbert couldn’t deny that it was there. He contemplated saying something else (what, exactly, he didn’t know) but was saved by the titular character’s big entrance.

As the alien took the fast route out of the guy’s body, Anne gasped, her hands flying up to cover her face as Gilbert laughed.

“It’s just the small one,” Gilbert teased.

“Just nothing, you asshole,” Anne squeaked, reaching out blindly to shove at him which made him laugh harder. Trying not to laugh with him, Anne rolled over to face away from the screen, tangling her blanket even more. “Cordelia’s too young to watch this and I hyped up the cat representation and everything!”

Gilbert’s laughter died down behind her and she suddenly felt a featherlight touch on the back of her leg that made her flinch.

“Sorry,” he said, jerking his hand back.

Anne finished her roll so she was now on her stomach, shifting so her head was resting on her folded arms and she was facing Gilbert. She kicked her leg up behind her to see what he was looking at.

“Forgot about that?” Anne asked.

“I didn’t realize it scarred,” Gilbert said, pulling his eyes away from the silver mark along the back of her shin.

Anne shrugged, twisted up in her blanket but too comfortable now to move, the movie going on without them.

“You did a fine job, Dr. Blythe,” Anne teased.

“Was that from that bench we sat at? You should’ve gotten a long list of diseases from that thing.”

Anne snorted. “Probably. But nope. I cut it on my bed.”

“I don’t remember that…”

“I don’t think I told you the truth,” Anne admitted. “I was on laundry duty that morning and that group of girls showed up when I was trying to make my bed.”

Gilbert frowned, turning a bit against the headboard to face her more. “They messed with you a lot? I just thought it was that one time, when I first got there.”

Anne didn’t answer for a moment but the look she gave him made him feel naive.

“They just didn’t do it around you, Gilbert,” Anne said.

“Why didn’t you tell… Nevermind. What was their problem, then?” Gilbert asked.

Anne shrugged again, finding it easier to talk about this in her dark room. “Whatever came to mind, I guess. I was too in the way, my hair was too orange, I was too ugly, I was reading too much. I was hanging out with you.”

Gilbert looked flabbergasted. “ _Me_?”

“That was their main grievance at the time.”

“I don’t think I said two words to anyone there, let alone them,” Gilbert said incredulously.

“But you talked to me,” Anne said simply, looking up at him. 

“Did they make you stop being my friend?” Gilbert asked, eyebrows frowning for him.

“They tried.”

“But you didn’t…”

“Nope.”

“Why not? What if they hurt you?” Gilbert asked, almost forgetting this was years ago.

“They never left any marks.”

“Anne!”

“What? That wasn’t _their_ way.”

“What if you had gotten hurt just because of me?” Gilbert blurted out.

“I’ve gotten worse for less, Gil,” Anne said succinctly. “It would’ve taken a lot more to get me to stop going to that bench with you. You were all that I had.”

Gilbert opened his mouth but closed it just as suddenly. Here Anne was, laying next to him, being more candid about her childhood than ever, and it made him feel like crying. He wasn’t an idiot (despite what a certain someone might think) and he could fill in the blanks. Just weeks ago he had been worried he had ruined their friendship forever and now Anne was proving, again, how much harder he needed to work to deserve her in his life.

Before Gilbert could think of a response, Anne sat up. She reached over him to pick up the remote and rewind through the parts of the movie they had talked over. Without saying a word, after hitting play, Anne just sat with Gilbert against the headboard and let her head rest on his shoulder as they watched Ripley take charge.

* * *

“Is Dellie your resident cupid?” Anne asked with a laugh, pointing at the loops of pink and red paper chains above them as Gilbert delivered her and Diana’s lunches (their usuals).

Gilbert gave her a flat look that made her giggle again.

“It’s your fault, Shirley,” Bash said as he passed by, not seeing the pleased look on her face at the pseudo-nickname. “We’ve run out of fairytales and had to tell her about the history behind Valentine’s Day instead.”

“How is that my fault?” Anne asked, affronted.

“Because you created a fairytale monster. Not even those brothers could compare to yours,” Gilbert said as Bash nodded in agreement before he disappeared through the back.

“The Brothers Grimm?” Diana laughed and Gilbert waved her off. “Did Anne get your niece on a Disney kick or something?”

“Worse. She showed her quality literature,” Gilbert mockingly complained.

Anne rolled her eyes. “I wrote her a story for Christmas,” she explained.

“You write children’s books?” Diana gasped.

“What? No. It was just a gift…”

“Cole’s been looking for a writer and now I can hand him one with a bow on top!” Diana cheered, pulling out her phone and her thumbs flew over the screen.

“... What?”

“We’ll make a published writer out of you yet, Anne Shirley,” Diana said as if she had just come up with a perfectly thought out evil plan and looking quite pleased with herself. 

Anne had the most bemused look on her face but instead of commiserating, Gilbert just grinned.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, ladies,” he said before sauntering off, ignoring Anne’s splutters of confusion.

* * *

Her phone started ringing and Anne’s face bloomed red as she dove for her bag to silence it.

“Sorry,” she hissed, sliding down in her seat a little as her professor gave her a look before going back to his lecture.

After a few minutes, Anne snuck her phone back out of her bag and touched the home button to see who had called her, hoping it wasn’t an emergency.

When “missed call: Marilla Cuthbert” popped up, Anne frowned. She had visited Green Gables a few times since New Year’s, once with Gilbert again and once without, but those visits usually came about from a few perfunctory texts. Her time spent with Marilla and Matthew was slowly becoming not-as-awkward, even if they still hadn’t discussed the elephant in the room. She found herself looking forward to going to the old farm house whenever they made plans, and left each time pleasantly content even if she arrived a bit nervous. But getting a call from Marilla worried her a little, so she slipped out of her desk (leaving her stuff to signal that she was going to return) and left the classroom silently (knowing she wouldn’t miss much as Mr. Front Row asked his usual litany of questions). 

“Hello?” Marilla answered after a few rings.

“Marilla,” Anne said. “Sorry I missed your call, I was in class…”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s not important, anyway. Please, go back to class…”

“No, it’s alright,” Anne assured her as she walked towards the windows at the end of the hallway where there were fewer classroom doors. “I can talk.”

“Well,” Marilla said primly, and Anne smiled a little as she imagined her straightening her glasses. “I know you’re busy, so I won’t keep you. I was just looking at my calendar and realized your birthday is coming up. Twenty-three if I’m not mistaken. I’m sure you have plans with all your friends the night of, but I… Well, Matthew and I were wondering if you wanted to come for dinner the night before. Gilbert is more than welcome, of course. And I believe you mentioned spending time with Diana Barry?”

“Mhm,” Anne hummed, unable to form actual words.

“Well. Let me know. I’ll let you go. Goodbye.”

Anne tried to respond but realized Marilla had already hung up. She dropped her hand, phone going into her pocket on muscle-memory alone. Anne kept her back to the hallway, facing the window, as she pressed her hand to her mouth to stop herself from letting out any noise. Her throat was so tight she knew she was going to let out a sob if she moved her hand so just pressed herself into a corner until she could calm down.

Anne went so far as to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming. Based on how much it stung, she definitely wasn’t.

After a few moments of her trying to get air into her lungs through her nose, Anne tried to process what just happened.

Marilla had called about her birthday. Which was a few weeks away. Anne couldn’t even remember when her _own_ birthday was coming up and probably wouldn’t have this year until the first rolled around and reminded her it was just a few days after that. Her birthdays had never been special, let alone anything celebrated, and she often forgot that others took them a lot more seriously than she did. With that kind of attitude, Anne usually forgot to even mention it to others. She knew Gilbert didn’t know. And the only reason Diana did was because Ruby had asked about her astrological sign during their girl’s night. But here she stood, in an empty hallway, with an invitation to a birthday dinner from Marilla Cuthbert. Because Marilla remembered the date. And even knew how old she would be (something Anne also tended to have to think twice about when asked).

Anne was feeling too many things at once and suddenly ached for a notebook so she could start writing to get some of the words and emotions out of her head. A few classroom doors suddenly sprang open and people started pouring out, making Anne realize she had missed the end of her class. She hurried back to room 200, pushing against the current to grab her stuff and slip back out. Thankfully that was her last class for the day and she was free to hop on her bus and zone out so she could get home and try not to cry in peace.

* * *

The evening before her twenty-third birthday (“Birthday Eve,” Delphine had declared it), Anne sat in the backseat of Gilbert’s car with Diana as she teased Gilbert for being their chaufer.

“Too bad there’s no divider like in a real limo,” Diana snickered.

“Jokes on you, Diana, Anne and I have never been in a real limo so we can’t laugh at your rich people anecdotes,” Gilbert said from the front seat as Anne giggled.

Diana let out a loud laugh that her mother would have disapproved of. “How do you know what Anne has or hasn’t done?” she challenged.

“I know,” Gilbert said cryptidly as Anne shrugged, helpless but to agree with him.

“Anyway, we needed a DD for the start of Anne’s Birthday Festivities. Ms. Cuthbert’s homemade wine is almost as well-renowned as her plum puffs,” Diana declared.

“She’s famous?” Anne smirked.

“ _Infamous_ if you ask my mother,” Diana whispered before her and Anne dissolved into giggles. Diana looked up just in time to catch Gilbert watching Anne laugh through his rearview mirror and quirked an eyebrow at him until he saw he was caught and looked back at the road.

“Alright, you two, we’re here,” Gilbert said as he drove past the barn and parked in front of Green Gables. 

Diana hopped out of the car to keep poking fun at Gilbert and Anne got out slowly. She paused, facing the farmhouse, finding its familiarity beginning to feel like comfort. She took a breath, the smell of fresh blossoms and cut grass flooding her nose. She wondered what it would have been like to live here with confidence that her spot at the table would remain every time she woke up, and the thought didn’t twist like a knife in her gut for the first time.

A slight breeze moved past, plucking at the hem of her shirt and a few tendrils of her hair that hung loose around her shoulders. Spring had always been Anne’s favorite, when the weather just turned and even the grumpiest curmudgeons would spend just a second longer outside in the sun when it wasn’t too cold to linger or hot enough to burn. Anne watched as the setting sun caught the edges of what she had once declared her favorite tree on the property, the blossoms just beginning to make themselves known. For a piece of nature that could make no sound of its own, Anne could hear it asserting itself, demanding the world acknowledge it’s right to prosper and bloom.

“Anne?”

Anne blinked and looked over to where Gilbert and Diana were waiting for her near the steps to Green Gable’s kitchen door. She stepped over and Gilbert smiled at her as Diana looped her arm through hers and led them all up the steps. The door opened before anyone could knock and Marilla ushered them all inside.

“Come in, come in. You’re just in time, the roast is just resting,” Marilla said. She looked a little flustered and Anne wondered if she had gone through a lot of trouble for just one meal. Marilla wringed her dishtowel in her hand as she took in the three twenty-somethings standing before her.

“Thank you for inviting us—”

“Nonsense. You don’t need an invitation, any of you,” Marilla fussed before stepping forward and giving Anne a just-short-of-awkward hug. “Happy birthday, Anne.”

“Thank you, Marilla,” Anne whispered against her shoulder before they pulled apart.

Marilla gave her a terse but genuine smile before succumbing to her need to keep busy and bustling back towards the stove, ordering them all to make themselves at home at the table. 

Matthew then walked in. He looked a bit startled, seemingly always expecting them to be anything but right on time, but just nodded and came forward to drop the bundle of wildflowers he clenched in his hand into the vase on the table.

“Happy birthday,” he said gruffly, leaning down to give Anne a sideways, one-armed hug.

“Thank you, Matthew,” Anne said, smiling up at him and finding the kind gaze that always seemed to catch her off guard.

After Marilla bossed Matthew around, refusing any help from anyone else, to get all the food on the table, the five managed to fill the usually silent kitchen with a plethora of noise over a delicious meal. Anne wasn’t quite as quiet as she had been her first few visits as Diana’s upbringing had turned her into an expert conversationalist. Gilbert even managed to liven up the table by tugging a few childhood stories out of the Cuthbert siblings, including one that had become a bit of a local legend amongst the Avonlea children that had Anne giggling into her cake after dinner.

Once their plates were cleared, and Diana had weedled a few glasses of homemade wine out of Marilla, Matthew cleared his throat.

When everyone looked to him, which made him look like he hadn’t realized that would be a consequence of his actions, he made a gesture towards Marilla.

“Anne,” Marilla started, her apparent nerves making Anne frown slightly. “Would you join us in the parlor for a moment?”

Anne glanced at her friends before nodding, not sure what this meant but following the siblings towards a more formal part of the house she hadn’t frequented.

Anne heard Gilbert ask Diana a question before their voices faded as she turned a corner and stopped before Matthew and Marilla as they stood beside an antique desk. Matthew made an aborted gesture towards the desk, Marilla beside him with pursed lips, and Anne took a step forward to see a vintage book, a tome really, lying open before her.

“I don’t—”

“It’s rather old-fashioned,” Marilla started to explain hurriedly. “I’m not sure how many families still do this, but this one has been in our family for a long time. We— Well, I— We’re not sure if you want to talk about it—”

“Before you left—”

“Were forced to leave,” Marilla corrected.

“Yes, yes. Before you were forced to leave, well, ten years ago now,” Matthew stammered out. “We were going to do this then—”

“It’s just a formality at this point, since you’re a grown woman now,” Marilla said. “Too late to do anything legally—”

“This is our family bible,” Matthew finally said. “We’d like you to sign it. If that sort of thing interests you.”

Anne’s eyes widened as she took another step forward to see the fancy pen sitting on the desk beside the book and the open lines beneath “Matthew Cuthbert.” She then spun around to face the real person and see the earnestness in his eyes that was mirrored in his sister’s. 

If asked, Anne wouldn’t say she _wasn’t_ an emotional person, but also had learned early on that doing anything more than trying to hold it in wasn’t to her benefit. The most she expressed whatever was going on inside her was in her writing, which she was still allowing herself to explore. So, if asked, Anne would say the last time she had actually full on cried and not just let a few tears slip silently down her cheeks… was probably when she turned eighteen, and, before that, when she was a kid. 

Now, however, as she was hit fully with the implications of Matthew and Marilla’s suggestion, Anne felt herself break. For want of a better metaphor, the wall Anne had been taught to build up from a young age had just been obliterated by a sledgehammer and there was nothing anyone could do to stop the pieces from crumbling.

Anne caught the panicked look on Matthew’s face before her vision was completely blurred by her tears as she literally broke down right in the middle of the Cuthbert’s parlor. She couldn’t do anything but bury her face in her hands as she began to sob, shoulders shaking as she tried to get air into her lungs. Anne flinched when a hand touched her shoulder but she somehow knew, a split second later, that it was Matthew and she tumbled into his arms. She heard Gilbert’s voice, but couldn’t tell what he said, just as she felt another arm wrap around her shoulders and heard Marilla trying to make soothing noises at her.

Anne then felt someone nudge her and she allowed herself to be shuffled to the couch, Matthew and Marilla sitting on either side of her and not letting go.

“We don’t want to upset you, Anne,” Matthew said as she hunched over her lap.

“I don’t know if you want to hear this,” Marilla began, continuing after Anne nodded into her hands, hungry for whatever they were offering her. “We fought very hard. Back then. When those people took you back, I don’t know if you know that… We would have tried to contact you if we thought for even a second that they would allow it. Then… Well, I suppose we convinced ourselves you were better off, perhaps. But… I suppose we were wrong and we are _so sorry, Anne_.”

Her hands shaking, all Anne could do was tip over. She curled into herself atop the uncomfortable couch, half in Marilla’s lap and edging into Matthew’s, and received what she was looking for: a soothing hand gently moving her waves of hair out of her face as she cried.

* * *

Someone must have half-carried her up the stairs and into the room she had slept in years ago because, an hour or so later, Anne woke up in a dark room that wasn’t her own. She would have felt embarrassed at apparently crying herself to sleep like a toddler but was too exhausted to care. She blinked at her eyes adjusted to the dark, her gaze falling onto a string of dried flowers draped across the headboard that looked vaguely familiar. Her phone then buzzed again beside her and she realized that’s what had woken her.

_Dont want to wake u… Heading out diana has plates and I have class in the AM_

_Pilates???_

Anne stared at her phone for a moment before the words processed in her brain and she sat up so fast her head spun.

Anne knew she must look completely awful but it felt so unquestionably urgent for her to catch Gilbert before he left that she just flew out of the room at the end of the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door, to bypass the kitchen, and into the night.

“Gilbert!” Anne gasped, stumbling to a stop in the grass.

Gilbert looked up, surprise on his face as he took in the disheveled Anne before him. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him look over to see Diana getting into his car and giving him a wide-eyed, pointed look as she shut the passenger door of his car with a thump.

Taking the hint, Gilbert turned back to Anne. He glanced at the house and then gestured for them to step around so they were out of view from anyone who decided to peer out. They came to a stop at Anne’s favorite tree, standing beneath the moonlit shadows of her Snow Queen.

“Are you okay?”

“Were you just going to leave?”

“No one wanted to wake you,” Gilbert said, unable to stop himself from reaching up to slide a piece of her bright hair back into place.

Anne’s eyes fell from his to his wrist as it passed her eyeline before his arm fell to his side once more.

“I need you to stop looking at me like that, Gilbert,” Anne whispered, voice wavering.

“Why?” he asked, gaze heavy and unmoving.

“Because I’m not your Soulmate, Gil…”

“I don’t care.”

“What? You were able to leave that place and still receive a Mark—”

“It doesn’t matter, Anne. I don’t think what’s on my wrist should dictate my life any more than what’s not on your wrist dictates yours. I could meet my Soulmate right before I die or I could meet them tomorrow. It still doesn’t matter.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Anne breathed.

“Because of you,” Gilbert whispered, the truth tumbling out of him. “Because people deserve love with or without a Mark and I can’t see myself loving anyone but you, Anne. Soulmates be damned.”

Anne had thought she had dried herself out, that she couldn’t possibly manage any more tears after her display earlier, but this night was full of surprises. This time, tears spilled from her eyes silently, her blue eyes standing out in the dark against the red edges. Gilbert lifted his hands to cradle her head and Anne leaned her cheek into his touch.

“Anne,” Gilbert whispered, feeling her hand grip his wrist before she surged forward onto her toes to press her lips to his.

Swallowing the noise she made as he kissed her back, Gilbert’s hand slid into her tangles of hair as they gripped each other and didn’t part until they were dizzy.

Anne gasped, tilting forward slightly as they separated only in the bare minimum. Their foreheads pressed together for lack of ability to possibly be any closer in that moment as they stood in the grass outside the one place from her childhood she had truly longed to call home. And now could.

* * *

Anne jerked awake, disoriented from the feeling of falling that was just in her head. She had gone back upstairs with a promise from Gilbert that he would meet her after her class the next day, to which Matthew also promised he would give her a ride. She had been too exhausted to argue with his logic as Gilbert pointed her back towards Green Gables, so many things swimming through her head that it was really a wonder that she had fallen back asleep at all.

She sat up, using her phone to see that it was past midnight, officially her birthday, and that no texts had woken her this time.

It wasn’t until Anne glanced at the window, a breeze causing Snow Queen’s branches to dance as shadows across her floor, did she realize her wrist had actually stopped itching or tingling for the first time in months.

Anne blinked, the moonlight bright enough for her to mostly see. Shifting into a moonbeam, Anne lifted her right arm. Only, instead of just freckles, a grouping of dark boxes had taken place on her wrist. Her first thought was that they looked like the dusty old opening in the Home’s attic, but, as the wind moved the shadows across her pale arm, she recognized it as something else. 

Anne looked away from the Soulmark she was too shocked to fully process to take in the gable window that allowed her to look out onto her favorite tree and the farm beyond: a cluster of glass squares that was now part of her skin forever.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … their marks are both windows (simultaneously the one in the attic in which they met and the one in Anne’s room at Green Gables)… because the real soulmates are the friends/family we make along the way?


End file.
